J^-.iflJ ,^C/<r~>^i,V 




Class _ 



iJUiz. 



•9> 



Book- y-5[y\S 




y"^ ^ % . d a^-o^<L£.-'^t--c-(_ 



j^tm^wiul 



ALPHEUS SPRING PACKARD 



^798-^884 



"Ids aXrjdcbz I(Tpa-qXirT)q^ h uj duXog oux effri 



PRINTED FOR BOWDOIN COLLEGE LIBRARY 

BRUNSWICK, MAINE 
1886 



v^ .^^^ 



^ 



^ 




Ainer. Ant. Soo. 
25 Ji iiHii 



PRINTED AT JOURNAL OFFICE. LEWISTON, MAINE. 



PREFATORY NOTE. 



This volume has arisen from a desire to preserve in book 
form a memorial of a long and honored career entirely given 
to the service of the college. To select from the large store of 
material suited to this purpose has been a difScult task. For 
reasons that need not be mentioned, it has been thought best 
to use only what was said in memory of Professor Packard at 
Brunswick, the scene of his life work. To these tributes have 
been added, at the request of friends, two of his own addresses, 
each in its way characteristic of the man. A short biograph- 
ical sketch has been prefixed in order to present in connected 
form the outlines of the life, and to supplement at certain 
points the addresses which treat more fully of its character 

and influence. 

George T. Little. 

Bowdoin College, May 14, 1886. 



LIST OF CONTENTS. 



Heliottpe of Professor Packard. . . ■ Frontispiece 

Prefatory Note. iii 

Biographical Sketch. The Compiler. . . V 

Address at the Funeral. Joshua L. Chamberlain. 1 1 

Poem. Samuel V. Cole. 16 

Sermon. William P. Fisher 17 

Remarks at College Chapel. Henry L. Chapman. 35 

Tribute from Undergraduates. Boivdoin Orient. 39 

Commemorative Address. Egbert C. Smyth. . . 42 

Lecture on Character. Alpheus S. Packard. . QQ 

Remarks at Portland. Alpheus 8. Packard. . . 82 

Bibliography 89 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



Among the sevenscore passengers wliicli the ship 
Diligence brought to New England in 1638 was Samuel 
Packard of Wymondham, in Norfolk County. His 
great-grandson, through his son Zaccheus and his 
grandson Solomon, was Jacob Packard, the father of 
Rev. Hezekiah Packard, D.D., and the grand parent of 
the subject of this sketch. The lives and characters 
of these earlier generations — all natives or residents 
of Bridgewater, Mass., — were of the type their Bible 
names suggest, and were marked by no small share of 
the virtue commemorated by the vessel which bore the 
first of the name to this country. The aphorism which 
Professor Packard's grandmother gave her son as he 
left home to serve in the revolutionary army, "Pray- 
ing will cause thee to leave sinning, and sinning will 
cause thee to leave praying," would indicate that the 
piety that characterized the later generations has not 
been a mushroom growth. 

Alpheus Spring Packard, the eldest son of Heze- 
kiah and Mary Packard* was born at Chelmsford, 
Mass., December 23, 1798. He was not less fortunate 
in his maternal than in his paternal ancestry. His 
mother was a woman of marked culture and refinement. 
Her father, for whom he was named, the Reverend 

* Owing to the extended notice of Professor Packard's parents, on pages 
44-7, it has not been thought necessary to make further mention of them here. 



Alpheus Spring, — a descendant of John Spring, one of 
the original proprietors of Watertown, Mass., — gradu- 
ated at Princeton in 1766, was settled over the west 
parish in Kittery, now Eliot, Me., and died there at the 
age of forty-six, after a pastorate of twenty-three years. 
His wife was Sarah, daughter of Hon. Simon Frost, a 
graduate of Harvard in 1729, and long in public life, 
and of Mar}'^ Sewall, a descendant of Henry Sewall, 
who came from Coventry, England, in 1634, and be- 
came the founder of the well-known New England 
family of this name. 

Although Professor Packard was a native of Mas- 
sachusetts, yet his father's removal in 1802 to Wiscas- 
set, Me., obliges one to look to the latter place, which 
was afterward his home until he settled in his life-work 
at Brunswick, for those influences of social life and 
physical surroundings that exert so great power over 
the formative period of boyhood. The character and 
extent of these have been elsewhere described, and 
space allows a picture of but one from the many feat- 
ures of his childhood life. Fortunately it is drawn by 
his own pen.*' 

"We can not forget those winter Sabbaths in that old struct- 
ure ; its front door, without shelter, opening into the east wind 
and snow ; its floor a stranger from first to last to the comfort of 
carpet, except it may be in the more pretentious pews ; the fierce 
rattling of the windows when the winds were high, sometimes 
almost overpowering the ordinary voice of the preacher ; and the 
preacher himself delivering his message in surtout cloak and 
black silk gloves. We recall the look to us children of the mas- 

*The following is taken from the "Address delivered on the occasion of 
the Centennial Celebration of tlie Congregational Chxirch at Wiscasset, Au- 
gust 6, 1873." 



sive sounding-board over the minister's head, our wonderment as 
to what contrivance kept it there, and the consequences of its 
possible fall ; the seat against the wall at the head of the 
pulpit stairway, occupied by the old Hessian soldier, Webber, 
with flowing gray locks, and, after he had ceased from attend- 
ance on the earthly sanctuary, by Deacon Rice's dog, who, in 
spite all efi'orts to keep him at home, never failed to attend 
church and maintained for years possession of the broad stair 
with great decorum, never disturbing the quiet of the place, 
unless, if my memory is not at fault, he at first manifested impa- 
tience at the deep and threatening tones of the bass-viol." 

The week-days at Wiscasset were well filled with 
study under his father's direction, with the chores that 
always fall to the lot of a lad living upon a farm, and 
to a much less extent with the sports which sea-shore 
boys never find wearisome. From this busy, well 
guarded home life he went in his thirteenth year to 
Exeter, N. H., to finish his preparation for college at 
, Phillips Academy, then, as now, in the foremost rank 
of fitting schools. Of the privileges he there enjoyed. 
Professor Packard spoke in grateful acknowledgment 
and a most pleasant vein of reminiscence at the centen- 
nial celebration of the institution in 1883. In regard 
to the use he made of these privileges, the testimony 
can be cited of his famous classmate, George Bancroft, 
who writes : " Strong and healthy, sober-minded and 
industrious, and in his studies very successful, he bore 
a high character every way ; he was at home on the 
play-ground as well as at his books." 

The following year, September, 1812, young Pack- 
ard, having passed his examination in the Greek Testa- 
ment, Virgil, Cicero, and the four rules of Arithmetic, 



became a Freshman in Bowdoin College. The life of 
the undergraduate then bore on many sides a far differ- 
ent aspect from that it wears now. He studied and 
slept in plain, unpainted and uncarpeted rooms, heated 
only by an open fire ; he ate at " Commons " fare which 
was the subject of constant complaint ; he attended 
prayers at sunrise and sunset in a chapel guiltless of 
register or steam pipe ; he recited in private rooms, save 
in Senior year, when, for the morning recitation. Pro- 
fessor Cleaveland's lecture room, with its blazing fire 
upon the hearth, was sought with eagerness that often 
resulted in a race between the devotees of science and 
the seekers for a comfortable seat. For sport, he 
played foot-ball on the campus, swam in the Andros- 
coggin, shot pigeons and picked blueberries on the 
plains, and had his favorite walks to " Consecrated 
Rock" and " Paradise." 

Of the studies he pursued while an undergraduate, 
he gives the following account : "* 

" My first recitation was in Sallust which was followed in the 
Latin department by the odes of Horace. Our Greek, as also 
during the Sophomore and Junior years, was ' Oraeca Majorat 
and our mathematics was 'Webber's Arithmetic' Our class was 
the first to study Hebrew, but without points, ' Willard's Gram- 
mar,' and the ' Psalter,' thus following the curriculum of Harvard. 
President Appleton took our class in the Sophomore year for a 
short time in the satires and epistles of Horace. ' Hedge's Logic' 
was a Sophomore, and 'Locke on the Human Understanding,' a 
Junior Study, both committed to a tutor. In the Senior year, 
Stewart's ''Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind' 
comprised, with Locke of the year before, our metaphysics, and 
' Paley's Evidences ' and ' Butler's Analogy,' our course in Chris- 

*In his College Reminiscences, p. SS, of History of Bowdoin College. 



tian evidences, which, under President Appleton, left ineffaceable 
impressions. We read Forensics before the class, under President 
Appleton, on subjects suggested by our studies. Enfield's ' Nat- 
ural Philosophy,' Chemistry, and Mineralogy, were all under 
charge of Professor Cleaveland. In the Senior year, ' Bui'lama- 
qui on Natural and Politic Law,' was. a text-book, recited to a 
tutor." 

This course of study was pursued with his custom- 
ary faithfuhiess, and he graduated in 1816, deliver- 
ing at Commencement the Latin Salutatory, a part 
then assigned to the second scholar of the class. He 
spent the interval between the conferring of the bach- 
elor's and the master's degree, in teaching, first as 
assistant at Gorham Academy, then under the charge 
of Rev. Reuben Nason ; afterwards at his Wiscasset 
home; again for a longer period at Bucksport, where 
he met with marked success, and, still later as 
principal of Hallowell Academy. From the last posi- 
tion, occupied for only a few months, he was called to 
be a tutor at Bowdoin in 1819. During the next five 
years the most eminent men the college has ever sent 
forth, enjoyed his instruction. Of its faithfulness and 
conscientiousness no testimony can be needed after 
Longfellow's famous tribute. 

In 1824 Mr. Packard was chosen Professor of the 
Latin and Greek languages. In his inaugural address, 
on the manner in which the classics should be taught, 
delivered a few months after his appointment, occurs 
this sentence : " Like faithful guides, we are to show 
the pupil the most direct path to knowledge, and be- 
come the companions of his way, pointing out to him 
as he advances, whatever may animate and allure, and 



6 

leading him to the most favorable points whence he 
may view all that is grand and beautiful in the exten- 
sive field of human knowledge." How successfully he 
carried out this simple, yet comprehensive ideal, they 
alone can fully realize, who have some knowledge of 
the traditionary method of classical study, from which 
Professor Packard broke aloof. His habit was not to 
dwell upon minute philological and grammatical de- 
tails, though these were by no means neglected, but to 
unfold and illustrate the thought of the author. His 
recitations were also enlivened and enriched by occa- 
sional lectures carefully prepared to stimulate the stu- 
dent's appreciation of classical style, and the literary 
and historical relations of the text. This long profes- 
sorship of the ancient languages extending to 1865, 
was varied for three years, 1842-1845, by the addition 
of the duties of the chair of Rhetoric and Oratory. 

In 1864 Professor Packard was appointed to the 
Collins Professorship of Natural and Revealed Religion, 
a chair which he held to the close of his life. For 
nearly two-thirds of this period the undergraduates 
continued to enjoy his instruction in the recitation 
room. Well does the writer remember the eagerness 
with which the intercourse with him, who had ques- 
tioned successive classes for half a century, was looked 
forward to, and the popularity which Paley's Evidences 
and Butler's Analogy possessed among the Senior 
studies by reason of the instructor. But the duty 
connected with this chair, which he performed to the 
very last, with remarkable felicity, was the conduct of 
chapel services. From the dedication of the chapel to 



the close of his life, his voice was to be heard leading 
in prayer those there assembled. 

His public efforts for the spiritual growth of the stu- 
dents, were not confined to these more formal ministra- 
tions. How much good was accomplished by his con- 
stant attendance upon the prayer-meetings of the un- 
dergraduates, and by the helpful thoughts and earnest 
petitions he there uttered, cannot be known in this 
world. Still more important and wide-spread, perhaps, 
was the influence exerted by the Saturday evening 
lectures, which through his efforts and those of others, 
were continued for a series of years. In these lectures 
he presented moral and religious truths in their bearing 
upon student life and character, with great impressive- 
ness and fidelity, and with that felicity of illustration 
and appeal which characterized his preaching. 

Professor Packard's methodical industry enabled 
him while performing with the utmost faithfulness all 
college duties, to take a large part of the work in town 
and parish, which naturally falls to the public spirited 
citizen and the conscientious Christian. At the annual 
town meeting, he was an earnest and influential sup- 
porter of every movement looking to the advancement 
of the interests of the community. While not like his 
friend Professor Smyth, a prominent leader in the anti- 
slavery cause, which for so many years agitated town 
and state, as well as the nation, he gave to it his sincere 
sympathy and practical support. The tenaperance 
movement, from the first, received the aid of his voice 
and example. It was naturally in the educational 
work of the community, however, that he was most 



prominent. Chosen a member of the school committee 
in 1831, with a comparative!}^ short interruption in 
1840 and following years, he continued upon that 
board till 1870. Most of the printed reports issued 
during that period, were from his pen. 

It was in the church that Professor Packard's in- 
fluence made itself still more widely felt. In view of 
the tribute elsewhere given to his labors in this field, 
reference need be made here only to his service for 
quarter of a century, as superintendent of the Sunday 
School, a position for which his interest in youth as 
well as in education admirably fitted him. A mem- 
ber of the school speaks of "his quickness in seeing 
the face of a new scholar, his interest in the little 
ones, and the brief story or anecdote gleaned during 
the week, which he read at the close of the exercises." 

No account of Professor Packard's life, however 
brief, can omit allusion to his pulpit ministrations. 
They extended over a period of forty years. His 
name first occurs in the list of the clergymen of the 
State in 1844. He was regularly ordained May 16, 
1850, and preached often during the next two decades. 
There are few churches of his denomination in the 
State — that could be reached without unduly pro- 
longed absence from Brunswick — but have listened 
with pleasure and profit to his discourses. Nothing 
could better testify to the esteem in which they held 
him than his appointment to deliver the commemora- 
tive address on the occasion of their semi-centennial 
anniversary, and the discourse then delivered shows 
by its intimate and extensive knowledge of the life and 



9 

work of both pastors and churches the eminent fitness 
of the selection made. 

Six years after the incorporation of the Maine His- 
torical Society, Alpheus S. Packard was chosen a 
member. That membership was an active one. For 
forty-five years he was librarian and cabinet keeper. 
Of the eight volumes of collections published by the 
society, he was a contributor to two, and the joint 
editor of a third. It was indeed fitting that this 
society should celebrate the 84th anniversary of his 
birth in a manner that made the occurrence one of the 
pleasantest occasions of his long life. In this connec- 
tion should be mentioned his membership in the Royal 
Historical Society, the New York Historical Society, 
and the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. 

It was in ihe college library that the later gradu- 
ates of Bowdoin came to know Professor Packard 
personally. To many of them it is hard to realize the 
permanent absence of his familiar form, sitting at his 
table in the old leather upholstered chair, the story of 
which he could sometimes be prevailed upon to tell, 
and of the quick, keen glance he would turn upon 
each new comer until the latter came near enough for 
recognition, when this would change into a half smile 
which lit up wondrously his kindly countenance. The 
interest he manifested in personal contact with the 
undergraduates was not inferior to the zeal he showed 
in assisting their investigations whenever asked. 

It is not the province of this sketch to enter the 
privacy of Professor Packard's home life. It is, how- 
ever, well known that few if any family circles were 



10 

pleasanter than his. Many a graduate can testify to 
the warm sympathy as well as generous hospitality 
which the ladies of his household extended to so many. 
He married in 1827 Frances E., daughter of President 
Appleton, who died in 1839, leaving five children: 
Charles A. (Bowdoin College, 1848), a practicing phy- 
sician in Bath ; William A. (Bowdoin College, 1851), 
Professor of Latin and Science of Language in the 
College of New Jersey, Princeton ; George L. ; Al- 
pheus S. (Bowdoin College, 1861), Professor of Zool- 
ogy and Geology in Brown University ; Frances A. 
He married in 1844 Mrs. C. W. McLellan of Portland, 
who survives. The only child by this marriage, Robert 
L. (Bowdoin College, 1868), is connected with the 
Bureau of Education at Washington. 

On the resignation of General Chamberlain in the 
summer of 1883, Professor Packard was appointed act- 
ing President of the college. Relieved of many of the 
cares and labors of the position by his colleague. Pro- 
fessor Chapman, who was at the same time made Dean 
of the Faculty, this last year of his life passed away 
quietly and pleasantly. The public duties of his 
office were discharged during Commencement week 
with his wonted grace and dignity. The following 
Sunday, July 13, 1884, he died suddenly and almost 
painlessly of heart disease at Squirrel Island, where he 
had gone with several members of his family on a 
pleasure excursion.'* 

* A fuller account of his last days may be found on pages 15 and 32. 



ADDRESS 

By gen. J. L, CHAMBERLAIN, LL,D.* 



It lias been tliouglit proper that I should say a few 
words on this occasion, as one associated with our de- 
parted friend in every relation of college office, and 
during the whole period of my active life. 

I had expected others to speak before me, and for 
you. I am not here to attempt to voice the sorrow of 
this great assembly ; or to speak of all the varied inter- 
ests that are touched by this afflictive dispensation. 
Too little worthy is the little I can say. 

It were fitting surely that the college, which is so 
largely bereaved, should appear among those who bear 
testimony, and offer the last tributes of affection. 

This is not, however, the occasion where we can at- 
tempt to portray his character ; nor bring to view all 
his varied and efficient service ; nor recount the reasons 
for our loving him, and carrying the memory of him for- 
ward into the coming years. This will be done, doubt- 
less, at a more befitting time, and fitly done. Now it is 
only for us to utter broken notes ; expressive only of 
our sudden sorrow, long dreaded and yet hoped against, 
which reason and understanding have scarcely been 
sufficient to restrain our loving hearts from putting off 
as concerning one not subject unto death. 

It is impossible to note, even briefly, such a career, 

*This address was delivered at the public funeral services in the Congrega- 
tional Church, Brunswiclf, July 15, 1884. 



12 

and not remark certain habits of conduct wliicli have 
become traits of character ; or rather perhaps I should 
say, certain cherished principles, which have unfolded 
and expanded into consummate action. If I might use 
a phrase and a language both learned of him, I would 
ascribe to him in all its breadth of acceptation, that of 
the master historian, — " incorrupta fides " / uncorrupted 
faith ; incorruptible fidelity ; unswerving loyalty. 
Nothing could move Professor Packard from his con- 
viction ; nor make him betray or neglect a trust. 

His practical tests of conduct were so sharp as to 
make his judgments sometimes seem perhaps severe. 
A characteristic remark I have several times heard him 
make, when some person of responsible station had 
committed an act apparently dictated by selfish consid- 
erations, and which I have sometimes ventured to re- 
monstrate against as too sweeping ; — too broad an in- 
duction from too narrow a premise, — comes now, I con- 
fess, to appear more just, as maturer observation makes 
clearer the tests of character : " I have no respect for 
him," Professor Packard would say. It was not nar- 
row. It was that in the act he reprobated, he saw the 
decisive test of truth. In such cases the fault was of 
such nature as to show something wrong at the centre, 
something corrupt at the fountain of character. 

His loyalty to the college was of a type which be- 
longs to the heroic days, — '■'■virtute ac fide antiqua." 
The college was his absorbing thought, — I shall be par- 
doned if I say, his absorbing earthly love. It was the 
Jerusalem which he preferred above his chief joy. He 
could not see how anybody could allow anything to 



13 

stand before the college in estimation ; not the highest 
prizes of life, nor the dearest joys. 

He was not of sanguine temperament. I used 
sometimes to think he erred in underestimating or un- 
derstating his case when it concerned himself or the 
excellences of the college, and have even hinted to him 
of the frequent strain in his remarks or prayers, which 
seemed almost to depreciate our means of usefulness. 
But things achieved seemed to him always little, — the 
present a narrow place ; his eyes were ever looking for- 
ward for ampler instrumentalities and larger labors. 

Especially sensitive was he as to his own work in the 
college in later years. More than once has he put his 
resignation into our hands, with utmost sincerity and 
silent sadness. But we well knew that for all his faith- 
ful service, these days were his best days for us and for 
him ; that he never was doing the college better service 
than when he was binding all the graduates together, 
by the bond of a common recognition of him as the 
centre of all our happiest memories, and when he went 
in and out before us in the great influence and example 
which is the better part of teaching. 

May I not rightly also speak of him here as a gen- 
tleman, a character inestimable at this day, in the col- 
lege as in the community ? How truly like him it was 
— thoughtful always of others more than of himself — 
when he said with labored breath, and almost his last, 
" I am sorry to give you this trouble ! " Ah, did he 
but know it, it is not loving care of him that gave any 
of us trouble, but it is that we can offer it no longer. 



14 

We know not how to do without him in the college 
or in the town. Well did one say to me yesterday : 
" The world does not seem the world without Professor 
Packard." " We thought it had been he which should 
have redeemed Israel," said the bewildered disciples of 
the Master withdrawn from their gaze. So we had 
come almost to think Professor Packard's very pres- 
ence a pledge of the prosperity and triumph of the col- 
lege. 

It was significant, too, to see how the little children 
loved him. They know whom to love. Stern and judi- 
cial as he might have seemed, there was a patience, a 
meekness, a charity, which made the larger atmosphere 
of his life, and spread in his evening sky, an almost 
unearthly glory. He walked among us with feet al- 
ready anointed as for his burial, and in his form and 
face the light as of the coming transfiguration. 

Wonderfully befitting was the consummation. He 
had fulfilled the largest and the longest service ; he 
held now the highest honors. How gracefully, with 
what brightness and self-possession and dignity, he car- 
ried through the onerous duties and somewhat trying 
ceremonies which pertain to the presidential office, you 
all are witnesses. How remarkable the prayer he offered 
at the close of Commencement ! How happy a thing 
it was that so many graduates were here ! How beau- 
tiful his reception of them in the home whence the la- 
bor of so many years had gone forth for their instruc- 
tion! Long will linger the benediction of that last 
good-night, — greeting and parting. A finished course ; 



15 

a completed work; a consummate life! Nay, more 
than this. He had passed the goal, and wore the 
crown ere yet the race was wholly run. Years usually 
allotted to Heaven, were vouchsafed to earth ; and we 
received him as one who was indeed citizen of another 
country than ours, — an ambassador resident, bringing 
with him the laws and sanctions of his own country. 

Nothing could be more beautiful and perfect than 
his going: — seeking enlargement of scene rather than 
rest, which he scarcely seemed to need ; by the shores 
near which he was reared, and by the airs and waters 
of the sea, which drew his long gaze towards the in- 
visible bounds; surrounded by those whose loving 
ministries had stayed up his hands in the battle-prayer 
of life ; and as was befitting on a Sabbath day, we here 
at home the meantime wondering at the unaccustomed 
vacant pew, while his kinsman* as if divinely led, 
preached to us of the Transfigured Body :— and he, 
having shared and deeply enjoyed the service of the 
little church where he was, thereupon seemed borne 
away of angels into the other Sabbath. 

This is not death; there are no broken columns. 
One sphere of life fulfilled, God took him higher. 
Walking by the shore of the sea, he walked on ! And 
we who can go no further with him, weep for that; 
sorrowing most of all that we shall see his face no 
more. 

[* Rev. E. N. Packard, ol Dorchester, Mass. The sermou was from the words, 
(Matt, xvii : 1-2), " And after six days Jesus taketh Peter, James and John Ms 
brother, and bringeth them up into a high mouutaiu apart, and was transfigured 
before tliem."] 



POEM 

By SAMUEL V. COLE, A.M.* 



I. 

Ah ! but yesterday we saw him there in the familiar place, 

Where he welcomed all as children with his old-time courtly grace; 

But we knew not it was Heaven that was shining on his face. 

II. 

Light was nearer than we thought it, for to-day we come and find 
He has passed beyond the shadows that had made our eyes so blind ; 
And his more than fourscore summers are a golden trail behind. 

III. 

Walking by the narrow margin that divides the sea and land 
Of the Here and the Hereafter, he beheld, upon the strand, 
Words of One, who, as aforetime, stooped and wrote upon the sand. 

IV. 

Two there were that walked together ; they communed as friend with 

friend. 
On the mysteries, it may be, only angels comprehend; 
One, the Christ, wrote with his finger, one, the Christian, read — "The 

End." 

V. 

Silent do his books await him on their shelves in long array; 

But his book of life is ended and is silent now as they. 

And will henceforth stand among them, to be seen and read alway ! 

VI. 

What thou wert, O silent teacher, what thou wert and still thou art, 
Men inherit and will cherish ; we possess the better part, 
We, thy pupils, in the fibres of the living brain and heart. 

VII. 

Thou art happy ! Thou discerning from the summit of thy years, 
Long hast seen the promise over rolling mist of doubts and fears. 
Seen the vision of the future, and thou dost not need our tears. 

VIII. 

Sleep ! the peace of God upon thee— sleep ! and let the heavenly signs 
Drive their worlds in solemn silence, till the world's great morning 

shines, 
Where thou resteth from thy labors in the hearing of the pines. 

*This poem by a former pupil of Professor Packard, and for several years 
a fellow instructor in the college, was read at the funeral services by Gen. 
J. L. Chamberlain. 



MEMORIAL SERMON 

By rev. WILLIAM P. FISHER* 



Psalm xxxvji. 37: "Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: 
for the end of that man is peace." 

We are here to-day neither to bury nor to praise,, 
but to learn. 

One generally esteemed and sincerely loved, is nat- 
urally spoken of in the language of eulogy ; but the 
immediate purpose of the present discourse is not to pay 
a tribute of affection, though that is as well deserved 
as it is incidentally unavoidable ; the object is rather 
to set the character before us in its elements of instruc- 
tion and encouragement. Others can furnish the biog- 
raphy in its details, or speak of him as a scholar and 
teacher; my privilege is to give the features of this 
ripe Christian man as I have known them, beginning 
from his eightieth year, and looking backward only so 
far and so much, as the mature results suggest the 
process and motives by which these ripe qualities have 
been attained. 

In our knowledge of character we are ordinarily 
dealing with that which is so immature that we are 

*This ijresentation of the religious character of Professor Packard was 
delivered in the Congregational Church at Brunswick, July 20, 1884, the Sun- 
day after his death. Through the agency of his pastor, Mr. Fisher, a beau- 
tiful memorial window, the gift of numerous pupils and friends of Professor 
Packard, has recently been placed in the North Transept of the Church where 
he worshiped so manj- years. 



18 

getting only moral suggestions while compelled to draw 
on our imaginations for the picture of anticipated 
achievement; but sometimes Providence allows us to 
verify our observations in the spectacle of a well-rounded 
life. We may not indeed affirm that they are unfortu- 
nate who, called hence in the midst of their days, attain 
full and ripe virtues in a more genial clime ; but we 
rejoice in a companionship in which we beheld, with our 
mortal eyes, the mellow richness and the hallowed peace 
■of one who at fourscore and five, was still less venerable 
in years than in holy faith. The principles which are 
not so attractive in the rawness of youth, or during the 
struggles and cares of middle life, we value both as a 
power and a pledge ; but here we see them as fruition, 
and know them for what they are. Virtues cannot 
always, cannot perhaps generally, appear among men at 
their real value; they are unpolished diamonds; they 
are unripe fruits ; they are muddy with human incon- 
sistencies ; they are misshapen by circumstances ; they 
are excessive and violent because of contradiction ; 
faith itself is exasperated into pugilisan, and love driven 
into jealousy or sharp rebuke by the deceitfulness of 
the world. So it comes that we judge the good and 
goodness harshly and partially; we are deceived into 
thinking the smaller loyalty, and the easier virtue the 
more companionable. But give time to the nobler 
qualities. The steady faithfulness, the unbending prin- 
ciple, the affirmative faith get their color, their mellow- 
ness, their flavor ; the same virtues attain and reveal 
the loveliness that was latent in them. We have seen 



19 

and testify that tlie way to a fully attractive manhood 
is not the way of easy compromise of godliness, but, on 
the contrary, the consistent adherence to convictions 
and to obligations, the daily and continued tribute to 
duty and to God, till He in his own time reveals the 
beauty of that which he has commanded. The doc- 
trines of our treasured faith are so prejudiced by the 
difficulty of their application to the working life and 
the unformed character, that they are too often hastily 
dismissed as the formula of a hard process for the pro- 
duction of a harsh spirit. But that hasty conclusion is 
visibly corrected when we see these convictions and 
principles faithfully adhered to and producing their 
consistent and happy consequences. The Christian in 
his way through this world requires a vast amount of 
spiritual backbone and muscle. Their use is followed 
by more evident sweetness which may become quite 
patent to us in that margin of years that time borrows 
of eternity. 

Professor Packard's character was one not difficult 
to distinguish; it was a straight line. The secret of 
its power was open. Its material was imperative sin- 
cerity. He was a stranger to duplicity. When it was 
forced upon him he recoiled with disgust. He did not 
readily detect its presence ; but when he became con- 
vinced of a man's essential insincerity, he was inclined 
to withdraw into polite reserve. Mentally he was 
not subtle or even keen. There are no stories of his 
circumventing mischievous boys by superior sharpness. 
He took little interest in accurate refinements of 



20 

philosopliical and theological thought. He would have 
made no political manager, no detective, no criminal 
lawyer. He had no sly methods. No one could find 
any mysterious corners in his policy. So his sphere 
was not administration. The unraveling of complicated 
affairs, the steering a clever course among contending 
rivals was not his calling. He could be imposed upon. 
He was not calculated for extensive interests which 
would invite the interference of the designing or ambi- 
tious. He was guileless, so innocent of contrivances 
and maneuvering ambitions that he could hardly believe 
them when they were before his eyes. Eighty-five 
years of experience failed to give him an easy famil- 
iarity with human wiles. At the same time he was 
habitually wise to avoid iniquity either as its victim or 
its tool. It is not improbable that he understood more 
than he chose to acknowledge. But it is still more 
probable that the simplicity of his right motives made 
it impracticable for the mischievous to meet him on 
any common ground of susceptibility to their inclina- 
tions. His own motives were transparent. He carried 
about with him an atmosphere of unobtrusive rectitude, 
which was at once an armor against evil, and a medium 
of communication with the better qualities and capac- 
ities of his fellow-men. He established a good under- 
standing with others, and, apparently without effort, 
won their assent to his excellent principles and desires. 
Both in his intentions, and unconsciously, he stood 
apart from the evil, and in mutual sympathy with the 
good, not shunning men, so much as communing only 



21 

with their better capacities. He commended the good 
by revealing it to them in a guise transparently 
attractive. His faculties and occupations did not 
involve him in the disagreeable duty of thwarting the 
plans and thereby arousing the anger of men. He was 
seldom even suspected of decreeing or deciding affairs; 
for twenty years he has had no voice in college discipline ; 
his relation to things was such on all sides that people 
looked upon him with unusual candor. They saw that 
he was guileless; and this recognized characteristic 
commanded attention, assent, and reverence. His 
simplest words were therefore freighted with meaning. 
The listener reversed the usual process of subtraction 
and added to their force. The wisdom of experience 
and spiritual attainment fell unhindered into ears and 
hearts that were as open and receptive as to the prattle 
of a child. So his guilelessness secured allegiance and 
affection and influence with all who were susceptible to 
its charm. In an emergency of war or fire or flood 
where irresistible energy was required, we would not 
have applied to him; in controversy where strenuous 
oratory was necessary, others, even in his prime, would 
have taken precedence. His was not the arm to wield 
the club. He was not calculated for a great popular 
leader. If there was an element of timidity, his entire 
sincerity kept him from that resort of timid men — 
cunning. So it happened that he was, to an unusual 
degree, free from the accusations of prejudice and from 
all antipathies and suspicions. Thus in the quiet years 
and walks where mind and heart mold heart and mind. 



22 

his insidious innocence commanded with permanent 
authority. 

With this simplicity his remarkable courtesy was so 
identified as to seem only its natural expression. And 
such was the fact. His manners were nothing external 
to the man, and could scarcely be called an accomplish- 
ment. Etiquette was hardly noticeable, not because 
art concealed art, but because the soul of courtesy 
employed the familiar conventionalities, not to cover 
intentions, but as the most convenient expression of 
good-will. He had tact enough to avoid things 
unnecessary and disagreeable, and to recognize that 
which was opportune and pleasing, but his tact stopped 
there ; courtesy was not a means to an end of propiti- 
ating people and using them for his own purposes. He 
never descended to flattery, and was not lavish of 
praise. His appeal was to self-respect rather than to 
vanity. And that appeal to self-respect was nothing 
more than the revelation of the fact that he respected 
his fellow-man as such. He desired the rights and 
welfare of men ; he wished to render to all their due ; 
he sought nothing more from them. He was sometimes 
punctilious in proprieties, not apparently with any idea 
of winning favors for himself, but because he was un- 
willing to give pain or fall short of the full measure of 
recognition which each deserved. With a great admi- 
.ration for truly great men, with a full appreciation of 
refinement, and living in its atmosphere, he carried a 
delicate sympathy toward every human being into all 
his intercourse, and his manner was its ingenious ex- 



23 

pressioii. Intercourse with him was a liberal education 
in good manners, not imitable as manner merely, but 
the fitting expression of genuine regard. His tastes 
were aristocratic, he took his place naturally among 
the best, but his heart was republican, he was truly one 
of the people ; he entered cordially into the welfare of 
the entire community, especially on its intellectual and 
religious side ; the plainest people felt that he belonged 
to them. 

Whoever looked a little deeper would see that he 
was a Christian gentleman, a gentleman always, but 
more distinctively a Christian. This holy faith com- 
manded in his sincere soul and overflowed in his 
elegant bearing. People believed in his sincerity and 
delighted in his politeness, but they reverenced him in 
the totality of his conversation as a good man. This 
will be found to be the particular impression of him 
among many who care little for mere refinements or 
accomplishments; in the neighborhood for miles about 
he was definitely recognized as a humble disciple of 
Christ. That name in all these years has been unmis- 
takably written on his forehead and in his hands, 
and was evident there, because first of all it was 
written on his heart. Unobtrusive everywhere, in this 
there was no mistaking his position; he was unequivo- 
cally the disciple of the Nazarene. He was a scholar 
and teacher by occupation; as a man among men we 
called him a gentleman ; but in the central motive and 
sacred consciousness for him to live was Christ. 
Humbly he accepted the redemption not as a right but 



24 

as a gift. His supreme loyalty was fixed upon him 
whom he recognized as Master and Lord. There was 
his ultimate confidence and affection. As he walked 
our streets with modesty he was felt to be first of all a 
'Christian. His gentleness was not wholly a matter of 
nature, still less the result of prolonged affiictions, 
pains, misfortunes. What some are willing to learn 
only under chastisement, he learned from chosen con- 
verse with him who was holy, harmless, undefiled, 
separate from sinners. For the peculiar form of work 
which Providence had allotted to him he had a very 
high regard; he was industriously faithful to his 
appointed task and occupied with his profession, a man 
not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, serving the 
Lord. But teaching, as merely technical, was some- 
thing wholly foreign from his way of thought. Without 
urging himself upon his students, he made it plain 
enough that he counted it his privilege to train men 
for the highest character and usefulness, and that 
with him was synonymous with training in distinctly 
Christian principles. He rejoiced to see men succeed- 
ing as scholars, as men of mind and power, but far 
more rejoiced to see them rising in Christian confidence, 
consciousness, and endeavor. With characteristic mod- 
esty he hesitated till he was thirty years of age before 
making an open confession of his religious faith, not 
through indifference, but because, being unable to give 
any distinct statement about the beginnings of his 
Christian life, he was not sure that his experience was 
genuine. Firm as was his discipleship there was ever 



25 

in it the element of self-distrust; repentance was the 
habit of his mind. But others have not shared his 
doubts concerning himself. His course as a Christian 
has been a steady consistent on-going, the shining light 
increasing in its brilliancy to the perfect day. 

His ideas of religious truth were serious, his con- 
ception of duty somewhat severe, but the current of 
his life trustful and gently cheerful. He held in gen- 
eral to the old type of religious thought and found 
little fault with its phraseology. On occasion his utter- 
ances were quite solemn; but ordinarily the comforting 
confidence, the practical duty, the kindly feeling, the 
encouraging promise for the individual and the church, 
furnished the theme of his religious conversation, and 
indicated the permanent quality of his contemplation. 
He was more than contented to take his place in the local 
church and among the company of disciples. He was 
not ashamed of this affiliation, or an indifferent partner 
in its duties and fortunes. He evidently loved the 
courts of God's praise and the fellowship of his people. 
As religion was to him life's great business, so the insti- 
tutions of religion took precedence of human affairs, 
and the welfare of Christ's church was his paramount 
concern. Accordingly every friend of the church was 
his friend, and the foe of the church came as near 
being his enemy as any one could. Here was a man 
who not only did not consider himself too fine, or good, 
or wise to be one in the fellowship of the local church, 
but showed his constant and unchanging love for it in 
ways conscious and unconscious, but always unmistak- 



26 

able. Great men praised and flattered liini, and he 
enjoyed their esteem though he did not seem to take 
praise seidously ; but when he turned to sacred things 
all honors dropped into nothingness. So he came into 
God's presence and among his people the humblest of 
us all. His commanding fidelity to Christ found in the 
visible church an outward and tangible object. Its 
every interest was precious to him, and not a word 
could escape his lips which might prejudice its welfare. 
When it was in difficulty his anxieties were great, when 
it was prosperous he rejoiced. As a company of people 
associated in Christ's name he demanded of it no super- 
human things. As a channel of divine blessing he 
desired for it every good. He was the example of sim- 
ple faithfulness, a representative and leader of the 
faithful; any one who failed here under his influence 
sinned against uncommon light. His constant blessing 
to the church was the singleness of his aim for the pro- 
motion of its honor and usefulness. That any one 
should hold any relation thereto of mere personal con- 
venience was to him an offense; that it could be used 
for any ulterior ends, personal or partisan, was 
to him inconceivable. His adherence, plainly one of 
conviction and duty, was even more plainly one of 
affection. He brought his interest with him. Thus 
though he gave so much, he demanded little. With fine 
tastes and noble standards of living and of thought he 
was slow to see and slower to mention the defects of 
this associated relation. The visible church was not 
more the public expression of duty than the vehicle of 



27 

singularly unalloyed and truly childlike pleasure. He 
who so loved the earthly courts was ripe for the enjoy- 
ment of larger privileges in the upper sanctuary. 

With this particular church his life was identified. 
As a boy he was on this spot when the old building 
which preceded this was in course of construction ; this 
church is the only one to which he e^ver belonged; yet 
we claim him in no restricted sense, for his sympathies 
reached to the wide and catholic communion of the sons 
of God. Various offices and trusts it has committed to 
him and never regretted the choice. When it seemed 
desirable to build the edifice in which we now worship, 
he subscribed half the year's moderate salary, though 
at the time supporting and educating his growing 
family. He was to the last, one of the most generous 
contributors. Methodically each Lord's day his offer- 
ing was deposited as he entered the sanctuary. He 
was uniformly in his place ; he persisted in his attend- 
ance upon the mid-week evening meeting (more than a 
half-mile from his house) till, well past eighty, the duty 
was urged upon him of remaining at home. The phys- 
ical reasons for this demand are now sadly familiar. 
He was generally present at our Sunday evening 
service nearer his house, even in his last year, and 
always a worshiper in the morning service, his voice 
distinct whenever there was an opportunity to join 
vocally. No one knew Professor Packard really who 
had not seen him in the social Christian meeting. 
There the variety and freshness of his thought was 
striking. Whatever theme was suggested he was ready, 



28 

rising from liis seat near the desk, to present it in some 
instructive and profitable manner, bringing from liis 
treasures things new as well as old. His prayers were 
an inspiration and delight. He lived a life of prayer, 
officiating at morning prayers in the college, with 
prayer in the family twice a day, and occasional prayer 
in the church and elsewhere, and I know not what 
habit of secret prayer — this was his atmosphere. Nor 
was it prayer that had degenerated into mere form, a 
repetition of order and phrases that had become stereo- 
typed; it was living prayer, humble, devout, and 
earnest, the voice of a constant walking with God. 
At the first communion season which I enjoyed here 
his prayer made a great impression upon me by its 
whole spirit as well as the facility and felicity of accu- 
rate scripture quotation, not studied for the purpose, 
the spontaneous offering of heaven's own manna. 
Afterward he seemed to lose in part his command of 
these stores of Bible language. But the Lord's table 
continued to be the scene where most clearly appeared 
his intimate heavenly communion. Only three weeks 
ago as he sought the divine blessing, praying for God's 
peace among us, he suggested the ancient tradition of 
the beloved disciple in his old age, saying "Little chil- 
dren love one another." More than one silently asked, 
in that precious hour, how long we might enjoy his 
ministration before he should be called to a higher 
fellowship. . . 

As a Christian preacher Doctor Packard was much 
esteemed. It is said, that like other men and even 



29 

other college professors, he saw the time when he was 
not fully appreciated. But it happened that the supply 
of the pulpit fell to him during a prolonged absence of 
the pastor of this church. He prepared discourses so 
interesting and helpful and so pleasing in their struct- 
ure and expression, that the students as well as the 
public attached a new value to his abilities and accom- 
plishments. His writing was careful and graceful, 
adorned from his familiarity with the best authors of 
the ancient and modern world, illustrated with happy 
references to the instructive acts of eminent men in his 
own acquaintance or in recorded history. But the use 
of this material was held in proper subordination. 
His preaching was truly scriptural in its spirit and 
expression, kindly in admonition and wholesome in 
encouragement. In the last years he has preached sel- 
dom because, furnishing no new sermons, and unwilling 
to repeat the old ones, it has seemed cruel to urge him 
contrary to his decided preferences. He was formally 
ordained to the work of the ministry in 1850, and for 
thirty years frequently fulfilled its offices with charac- 
teristic propriety, care, and spiritual appreciation in 
this and neighboring churches, welcome alike in city, 
village, and country. 

To speak of this teacher and preacher as parishioner, 
is to speak from feelings of personal affection. What 
constancy of support, what unquestionable loyalty, 
what forbearance, what reasonableness both in silence 
and encouragement I These might be expected indeed 
of him for they are expressive of his entire spirit and 



30 

attitude. Such a relation enriches any one who may 
enjoy it and continues a cherished memory when its 
substance exists no longer. One man of that kind in 
the pew is verily a pillar of conscious strength to the 
pastor who knows that he can surely count upon the 
whole force of his weighty influence. Such a man is a 
leaven in the whole church. His constant presence is 
the visible pledge of safety. Not only may his influ- 
ence be counted upon to restrain folly, but it recom- 
mends, teaches, and communicates faithfulness. That 
such a man can be satisfied with all departments and 
phases of the church work (or want of work), it is 
unreasonable to suppose. But silence and charity 
cover a multitude of defects. Every servant of the 
church and all its membership might assume from him 
the forbearance of a father. 

Sometimes he gave the impression of being not very 
confident or buoyant in his hopes for the church and the 
world. It would not do to assert that he was a fountain 
of contagious courage and enthusiasm ; that is just what 
he was not. Despondent views would be liable to gain 
too quick a response; he was rather susceptible to 
discouraging representations. Nevertheless he has ap- 
peared in these years rather as a Christian optimist. 
It was sometimes surprising (taking into account his 
years and all the influences), it was surprising to see 
how his thought, when following its own course, would 
rise in the direction and spirit of promise. This was 
probably because he kept in such close contact with the 
living world, the company of the young in their gener- 



31 

ations and classes. He loved the memories of the old 
days. He reveled in mystical lore, the quaint old associa- 
tions of place, the interesting narrative of persons. But 
he did not worship these memories or disbelieve in the 
present. He saw, to some extent, the changes of 
thought and the enemies of faith, yet loved to portray 
wherein he considered the world of to-day substantially 
better than that of his youth. He could remember the 
early years of the century before the morals of the 
country had recovered from the effects of the revolu- 
tionary war, before religion had rallied from the influ- 
ence of the French philosophy, before the character of 
the commonwealth had come to its best estate, before 
revivals of earnest piety had given that tone in the 
churches and homes which devout people of ripe years 
look back upon with so much regard. But his vision 
swept a larger circle, while he viewed the present 
through the favorable atmosphere of a green old age. 
So he was careful not to be an obstructive. He did not 
mean to have any old fancy interfere with practical 
usefulness. No devotee of a mere old fashion received 
any encouragement from him in opposing the wishes or 
denying the demands of living and active piety. He 
was wonderfully ready for new methods and cordial 
toward fresh endeavor. 

This sympathy with living men was a secret at once 
of his pleasure, his popularity, and his influence. He 
refused amiably to be an old man. How bright and 
graceful he was in a company, and how evidently he 
enjoyed meeting old and young we all know. He was 



32 

not witty, he was not exceptionally humorous, he was 
not fluent, he was not familiar ; yet how gladly he 
entered into intimate social converse, and his cheek 
glowed, and his eye sparkled, as story and laughter 
alternated with the evidences of friendship and sympa- 
thetic interest. He was alive to the last day and last 
hour. With July began the college examinations ; he 
was there and at all the most important exercises of the 
closing term. On Commencement day he presided at 
the graduation and at the alumni dinner, and in the 
evening at his house received, standing, the many who 
gathered about him. On Fridaj^ he attended the meet- 
ing of the Historical Society and spent the afternoon 
in driving. On Saturday he went to Boothbay Harbor, 
and because of the wreck of the steamboat in the fog, 
returned to Squirrel Island, to remain till Monday. 
Here in an air as serene and bright as his old age, where 
fortunate isles lie one beyond another out toward the 
mystery of boundless ocean, he was found on the Lord's 
day in the Lord's worship, with significant nearness to 
the sacred desk. His last public act was consistent 
with his life's affection for God's house above all 
institutions of the earthly state.* Then he went out 
under that beautiful sky, and lay down, and in a little 
was at rest. Farther out to more fortunate islands, 
to a realm wider, more mysterious and unknown, to 
nobler and more glad companionships, and a still more 

* Singularly his friend and companion, the Rev. S. G. Brown, D.D., ex- 
President of Hamilton College and Professor of Mental and Moral Philosophy 
at Bowdoin, who conducted the service that Sabbath, died with similar sud- 
denness and from similar cause a little more than a year later. 



33 

unsullied life, to ethereal and transparent being, a holier 
Sabbath rest, a finer air and " sacred, high, eternal 
noon," his Master called him — and he was ready. 

The lessons which are so evident in the statement 
of such a character, need only to be mentioned. While 
we feel his loss to be irreparable, he still demands of us 
that we remember him at his real value. Affection for 
that holy conversation must not give place to mere 
boasting of his refined taste, his gracious presence, and 
old-time courtesy. Merely to imitate him as a fine man 
in society, is to do him injustice, to misinterpret the 
meaning of his character and trample m the mire the 
pearls of his spiritual influence. We must hold in 
heaven's clear light the picture of his guileless integ- 
rity, his simple trust, his loyalty and love toward all 
upon which Christ's name was written. We must 
reproduce the motive and inspiration of such a char- 
acter as a permanent power in our lives. Why should 
not every man that walks these streets be also, accord- 
ing to the measure of his abilities and opportunity, a 
blessing and an honor ? 

Long -continued industry, patient faithfulness in 
every trust, uniform and hearty kindness, simple 
Christian discipleship command universal approval — a 
multitude of competent judges unite in saying "he 
was a good man." Let us be attentive to that influ- 
ence. The voice of that wise temperance, the com- 
muning of his daily prayer is ours no more. We 
cannot depend upon him to speak wisdom to us ; that 
wisdom must dwell in our own hearts, that love to 

3 



34 

Christ, Ms people and his church must control our lives 
and cement our union. Who in this solemn hour will 
dare to choose a smaller fidelity ? Who will rise to the 
devotion which counts nothing too precious for the 
honor of the Redeemer and the furtherance of his 
■earthly rule? Who are they whose lives henceforth 
shall be so faithfully ordered, so genuinely consecrated, 
so adorned with Christian virtues in the enlarging 
years that if those years be visible to human eyes, the 
human mind shall articulate the divine judgment — 
"well done, good and faithful servant? " Who of you 
from this day forward has in Christian choice and in 
Christian faith and affection, the essence and the power 
of lofty attainments, so that whether you live or die it 
shall be unquestionable that you are the Lord's ? The 
command comes to take to your hearts and hands those 
responsibilities which the fathers are laying down. 
God's call to them to cease from their stewardship is at 
the same time the command to zealously fulfill yours. 



ADDRESS 

By professor HENRY L. CHAPMAN.' 



A year ago, when, at the opening of a new college 
year, we were gathered for the first time in these seats, 
you receiyed the welcome of the college from one who 
gave to that welcome an added value because he ut- 
tered it. Many of you doubtless remember the eager 
interest and the hopeful spirit with which Dr. Packard 
spoke on that occasion, as he told us of the new illus- 
trations which the preceding Commencement had fur- 
nished him of the profound and far-reaching influence 
of college associations. That which fell from his lips 
had, then, as always, the charm of his own kindliness, 
and the weight of his revered character. 

Fitly, also, could he speak for the college, who had 
given to it a long life-time of loving and loyal service. 
Student and teacher the college was his home for sixty- 
nine years, within one year as long as the time usually 
allotted to human life. He served it gladly with his 
best powers ; he honored it always in his thoughts, his 
purposes, and his acts ; it was enshrined in his deepest 
affections; it was never forgotten in his prayers. 
Whatever assailed its good name, or threatened its 
prosperity, touched him as quickly and as keenly as if 

* These remarks by Professor Chapman, Dean of the Faculty, vrere made to 
the undergraduates, at Chapel Exercises, September 16, 18S4. Morning prayers 
were regularly conducted by Professor Packard for more than a quarter of a 
century, and he frequently officiated during other portions of his long connec- 
tion with the college. 



36 

it were aimed at himself, or at those who were dearest 
to him. Whatever added to its renown or promised to 
increase its usefulness was to him a source of evident 
and inexpressible satisfaction. 

Class after class entered these doors, drew nearer, 
year by year, to the voice of his supplication until they 
sat in his immediate presence, and then, with their 
hearts and their voices full of the melody of "Auld 
Lang Syne," went slowly down the aisle and out into 
the world, carrying with them the memory of a beauti- 
ful and benignant presence that ministered at this desk, 
and carrying with them also the priceless treasure of 
his sincere and affectionate interest in their welfare. 

And so it was that in every quarter of the globe 
men were to be found doing, according to their ability, 
the various work of the world, whose eyes would kindle 
and whose hearts would beat quicker at the mention of 
his name. They came back, when it was possible, more 
gladly to the annual Commencement of the college 
because they expected to meet once more their beloved 
friend and teacher; and they were always sure to 
receive from him a glad and affectionate greeting. For 
many years it was a matter of pride and pleasure to 
him that he knew every living graduate of the college, 
and they, with an ever-increasing cordiality and enthu- 
siasm gave him the reverence and love which were his 

due. 

The secret of his beautiful and useful life is not 
hard to find. Indeed it is not a secret, for it was clear 
to all who knew him. It was his modest and scru- 
pulous fidelity to every duty and trust, however small ; 



37 

he belonged to those accepted ones whose title to 
reward contains the shining words " faithful in that 
which is least." It was his kindly but unbending 
integrity in all things. It was his genuine and unob- 
trusive piety which made him anxious above all things 
to do the will of his Father in heaven. These quali- 
ties, joined with that courteous and genial spirit that 
always distinguished him, gave a strength and a sym- 
metry to his character, and a beauty and dignity to his 
countenance, which made it a pleasure to look at him, 
and an unspeakable privilege to know him. 

Scarcely had our late Commencement passed, and 
those who had participated in its pleasures gone to their 
homes, when, without warning and almost without pain, 
this faithful and beloved head of the college was called 
to enter into his rest. The bereavement was sudden 
and sad, but it may give us a feeling of thankfulness, 
even in our bereavement, to remember that he was 
spared the weakness and pain of lingering disease ; 
that he died in the full enjoyment of his powers ; and 
that his last conscious look was into the faces of loving 
friends. Nor should it be forgotten, for it was a source 
of the deepest pleasure to him, that during the preced- 
ing week he had received such manifold and eager 
tokens of respect and love from so many of his former 
pupils. It almost seems as if they had come up to the 
college in such numbers in order to pour the fragrant 
tribute of their love upon his head against the day of 
his burial. 

And while we recount the things to be grateful for 
in connection with his death, this, certainly, should be 



38 

among tliem, that his last year was in some respects one 
of peculiar pleasure and satisfaction to him. Never 
before, he said, during an acquaintance of more than 
seventy years with the college, had he known a year so 
free from the unfavorable influences and disorders that 
too often bring reproach upon college life, and had 
often in previous years been a burden of anxiety and 
sorrow to himself. Both in public and in private he 
spoke of the pleasure he had received from this fact, 
and from the promise it afforded for the years to come. 
It was a pleasure of his declining days that only the 
students of the college could give him, and it is a 
grateful privilege to mention it in this presence. 

The college can no longer speak through his lips, 
but it would not therefore fail to bid you welcome once 
more to these walks and halls, — ^both those of you who 
return to scenes that have already become familiar, 
and to old friends, and those who come among us as 
strangers to be hereafter friends. It is a welcome 
to hard study and honest attainment ; a welcome to 
friendly rivalry in the recitation room, in the field, and 
on the river ; a welcome to the opportunities for mental 
and moral growth which a college life so abundantly 
affords ; a welcome to the good-fellowship and cordial 
friendships which give a charm to the passing years, 
and remain a treasured possession through all the years 
to come. It is a welcome that carries with it the 
charge to be faithful and quit you like men, that the 
year opening before you may be full of the most satis- 
fying happiness, and fruitful of large attainments in 
both knowledge and wisdom. 



TRIBUTE 

FROM THE UNDERGRADUATES.* 



Extracts from the Bowdoin Orient of Jtily i6 and October i, 1S84. 

The few students who remained in Brunswick over 
Sunday were inexpressibly shocked, on that afternoon, 
to learn of the sudden death of our most beloved Pro- 
fessor, Alpheus S. Packard. To those who saw him 
preside at the exercises of Commencement with his 
wonted grace and energy, his firm step and sparkling 
eye, his happy vein of humor as he introduced the 
speakers at alumni dinner, all seemed to promise a long 
extension of a life already beautifully rounded and 
complete in all its parts. Connected with the college 
as a teacher for sixty-five years, ever found in perfect 
health at the post of duty, his name had become so inti- 
mately associated with that of the college, and so widely 
known in connection with it, that it seemed as if he 
himself had become a part of the old institution he 
loved so well. In his loss we feel as if half the college 
had been taken from us,— the only remaining link 
which bound us to the past. Around his head clus- 
tered all the associations and memories of an unusually 
long life spent in truly fihal devotion to his Alma 
Mater. The most picturesque figure connected with 

* As Professor Packard's death occurred in vacation time, no formal action 
was taken by the undergraduates as a body. It has therefore been thought 
fitting to include in the memorial these three exteacts from the periodical 
conducted by the students. 



40 

the college, it was his fortune to see every class that 
Bowdoin has nurtured. The old graduates who have 
come to Commencement from remote parts of the 
country, looking forward with such pleasant anticipa- 
tion to a sure recognition- and friendly greeting from 
Professor Packard, will indeed miss his kindly presence. 
It is allotted to all men once to die, but to some, 
favored beyond the common lot, death comes in a pecu- 
liarly appropriate time and manner. So it was with 
him. In the fullness of his age and honors, after suc- 
cessfully conducting one of the most brilliant Com- 
mencements Bowdoin ever saw — a Commencement 
abounding in tributes of affection and respect from 
former pupils, — without a long and painful confinement 
to a bed of sickness, but quietly, peacefully, and sud- 
denly he was taken away. With his death Bowdoin 
loses one of her staunchest supports and every student 
a true friend. 



Upon the pen whose duty is to chronicle the events 
which transpire from one number of the Bowdoin Ori- 
ent to another, rests the expression of our sorrow, that 
as we return to " these familiar scenes — these groves of 
pine," we no longer behold the face of him who had 
become to most of us the soul of Bowdoin. Elsewhere 
in this paper will be found a fitting tribute to his mem- 
ory,* but a record of college life would be incomplete 
did it not make some reference to the great loss which 
each of us personally has sustained, since last the Ori- 

* The reference is to the address by Professor Chapman which precedes. 



41 

ent and its readers talked together, in the death of him 
who though dead, still lives in the hearts of all who 
have passed beneath the sunlight of his smile, and the 
beauty that radiated from his manly character. In the 
death of Professor Packard, Bowdoin has lost the last 
of that illustrious company of men who made her rep- 
utation world-wide, and we who still remain beneath 
her fostering care — we have lost our friend. 



SONNET. 

Like to the anthem of a master mind 
Made vocal through the organ's metal throats, 
Where sweetly winning and strong-sounding notes 

Are all in perfect harmony combined; 

And seem a wave of beauty undefined, 
Which sinking into silence leaves the heart 
Of him who listens moved in every part 

With strange emotions which it leaves behind; 

And lingers like an echo in the breast, 
When long the notes have ceased to breathe in sound; 

A sense of something beautiful and best, 
Like unseen incense breathing all around. 

Was that pure life which went away to rest 
With days completed and with labors crowned. 

E. C. Pltjmmbe, '87. 



COMMEMORATIVE ADDRESS 

By prof. EGBERT C. SMYTH, D.D.* 

From the rock by the sea, on which our revered 
teacher and friend sat for a moment ere his mortal 
strength failed, a monument is rising of stones depos- 
ited one by one, in token of esteem, by residents and 
visitors as they pass. The only adequate commemora- 
tion of Professor Packard's service here would be for 
the thousands of his pupils each to testify what he 
received. How gladly would each of us bring his 
offering ! He had known personally (with possibly 
one or two exceptions) every graduate of the college, 
and never seemed to forget any one. He united us all 
as he had blessed us all. He became a visible embodi- 
ment of the college, a living representative of what it 
has stood for during the century. It was as natural to 
expect to meet him here as to see the chapel spires, or 
Massachusetts Hall, or the Thorndike oak. 

This is the first Commencement within the mem- 
ory of the oldest of us which has lacked the cheer of 
his sunny and benignant presence. We cannot let it 
pass without acknowledging our common loss, without 
uttering our gratitude. The occasion is its own elo- 

*TMs address was delivered by Professor Egbert C. Smyth, D.D., of 
Andover, Mass., before the Alumni Association of Bowdoin College, 24 June, 
1885. In accordance with a request made at that time it has been separately 
printed in pamphlet form. 



43 

quence. Otherwise I miglit shrink from speaking to 
you. His virtues have been celebrated far and wide. 
Even while he was with us the muse of Longfellow 
immortalized his "faithful service." 

''Dignum laude virum Musa vetat mori." 

Since his departure, the public press, yonder pulpit, 
representatives of associations of alumni in our leading 
northern cities, have paid just and glowing tributes to 
his memory. The air is still vibrant with these notes 
of praise. His character was transparent. You all 
knew him and understood him. There are no traits to 
be revealed. Nor has he left any record of the events 
of his life. Fond of making notes upon matters of in- 
terest, he pencilled not a syllable about himself. His 
memory was tenacious of incident and stored with rich 
and varied reminiscences, which he was repeatedly 
urged to commit to writing; but to no avail. Once, 
when thus requested, he referred to his address upon 
" Our Alma Mater," and to his sketches in the college 
" History," as a sufficient compliance. It did not occur 
to him that something was wanted about himself. So, 
when the Historical Society commemorated his eighty- 
fourth birthday, he appeared to think that the number 
of his years was the object, as well as the occasion, of 
the celebration, and in response to greeting and eulogy 
discoursed upon old age. I can bring to you, therefore, 
no treasure from his private records, precious as this 
might be. And yet is not this just what you ex- 
pected? He lived in and for the college. He had no 
thought for self. He has his reward. The college is 



44 

Ms eulogy. You, its sons, come here to do him honor. 
And so I hesitate not to talk to you about him, though 
you know in advance much that I shall say. The 
memory of those we honor and love is an exhaustless 
fountain. True words about them never tire. The 
lightest touch is enough where the chord is electric. 

The Germans have a happy saying that a man can- 
not be too careful in the selection of his parents. 
Our Professor was well born. I recall with pleasure 
the venerable form, the strong, benevolent countenance 
of his father. He took much notice of children. His 
military history gave him a peculiar glory in a boy's 
eye. When a lad of thirteen, he heard, while hoeing 
corn in a field in North Bridgewater, the roaring of 
the cannon on Bunker Hill. He was too young to 
enter the ranks. But a militia captain, knowing that 
he could play the fife, appointed him fifer in his com- 
pany. There seems to be a half-veiled prophecy in the 
facts that his regiment was first stationed at Cambridge, 
and drew its provisions from College Hall. Taking 
tea with a friend sixty years later and walking in the 
garden, he recognized the spot as the site of his first 
camp. His engagement expired in five months, during 
which he was ordered to Bunker Hill, Castle Wil- 
liam (Fort Independence), New York (near Hurlgate), 
Harlem Heights. The physical strain was too severe, 
and health and even life seemed likely to be the 
sacrifice. The picturesque and pathetic story of the 
return to his home of " the poor, destitute, and suffer- 
ing" fifer-boy I may not now recite, but this allusion 



45 

to it will suffice to suggest the perseverance and capac- 
ity for unselfish devotion to high ends involved in the 
fact that after this painful experience he again joined 
the army under a regular enlistment. The wounding 
in service of an elder brother, and the death of his 
father, seem to have brought him back to the farm, 
where his own energies and those of the rest of the 
family were now devoted to sending the disabled sol- 
dier to college. He did not aspire to such privileges 
for himself, but an injury, accidental as men say, laid 
him aside from physical labor, turned his thoughts, and 
finally his steps to Harvard, where, after graduation 
and a year of teaching school, he served either as 
Assistant Librarian or Tutor of Mathematics five years, 
when he was ordained to the ministry and installed as 
pastor of the church in Chelmsford, Mass. In Septem- 
ber, 1802, the same year and month in which the first 
President and Professor were inaugurated and Bow- 
doin College was oj)ened to students, Mr. Packard 
came to Wiscasset. For twenty-four years in succes- 
sion he was present here at every Commencement, be- 
ginning with the first, and during most of this time 
was an active and influential member either of the 
Board of Overseers, or of Trustees, and was usually 
present at the annual examinations. His son testifies 
that "from the day of his admission to the Univer- 
sity to the close of his life, he was a college man." 
While pastor at Chelmsford and Wiscasset he was also 
a teacher of youth. For years he was the principal of 
the academy in the latter town while also pastor of the 



46 

Congregational chureli. When he relinquished the 
charge of the academy — leaving it well organized and 
in successful operation — he continued to receive pu- 
pils to his home, sending in one year six to college. 
He was a man of utmost conscientiousness," indefatigable 
in labors, a rigid disciplinarian, but kind, affectionate, 
and devoted to the moral improvement of his scholars, 
systematic and faithful in the discharge of all public 
duties, sincere and earnest in his Christian life, an im- 
pressive preacher, a trusted pastor, a citizen always 
ready to make sacrifices for the public good, a devoted 
patriot. 

The mother of Professor Packard was a daughter 
of the Reverend Alpheus Spring of Kittery, now Eliot, 
Maine. She carried to her home in Chelmsford and 
thence to Wiscasset, the impressions and tastes received 
and cultivated in the society of a Stevens and Buck- 
minster. Six of her sons entered Bowdoin College. 
One, a young man of promise, died in his Junior year. 
The others graduated and rose to distinction in their 
professions, and the children's children are still main- 
taining the honorable traditions of their ancestry. I 
never knew the mother (she died in 1828), but I have 
supposed that her eldest child, our Professor, named 
for her father, derived from her much of the peculiar 
delicacy and grace of his mind, his fondness for good 
literature, his susceptibility to the finest culture. While 
she turned her spinning wheel in her rural home by 
the Sheepscot, and wove garments for her household, 
Pope's translation of the Odyssey was spread open at 



47 

one end of the machine so that, as she paced to and fro, 
a Ime could be caught at each return. Her memory 
was stored with facts of history and passages from her 
favorite authors which, repeated by her, were the de- 
light of her children ; and often, while too busy herself 
with domestic cares to turn a page or glance at a book, 
some one of the family under her untiring encourage- 
ment and skillful direction would read aloud for the 
benefit of all. These mothers of men — of sons who 
rise up to call them blessed wheraver letters and science 
have blossomed in our land — how like the thick-set 
stars in our nightly skies they shine upon us whenever 
our eyes are opened to discern the influences that have 
made our nation great and strong. 

Besides these formative powers of parents and home 
must be noticed those of scenery and community and 
history. 

The father, soon after his removal to Wiscasset, 
purchased a small farm about a quarter of a mile south- 
west of the village. The house stood ajittle below 
the crest of the hill, under a sheltering rock. In every 
other direction the rich and well-tilled fields sloped 
gracefully sunward. At the foot, on the east, were the 
beautiful harbor, and the graceful lines of Birch-point, 
then fringed with forest trees, and adorned by the 
hospitable mansion of Judge Lee. Beyond, over the 
waters and the bold headlands, were the stately hills 
of Edgecomb, and south and west and north, farm- 
lands, and forests, and ranges of upland, and the 
cheerful village with church and court-house and 



48 

pleasant homes and the broad street running down to 
wharves frequented by ships from every mart. Wis- 
casset was then, as I believe it is still, the shire town. 
Webster and Jeremiah Mason argued in its court-house. 
It was the most important town east of Portland. Its 
society embraced not a few families of superior intelli- 
gence and polished manners. Its commercial relations 
gave variety to its industries, and wide outlooks to its 
sons. The village bell rang out on the national holiday, 
and the guns of the old block house made fitting re- 
sponse ; but other festivals, too, were honored, as the 
ships of various nations saluted with flags and cheers 
and rounds of ammunition their own days of patriotic 
observance. No one, I think, of " the old Faculty," as 
it is often designated, did so much as Professor Packard 
to promote historical studies. He was well versed not 
only in ancient but also in modern history, particularly 
in the details of European affairs which have influenced 
the growth of this country. He had a fondness for 
narrative, for incident and anecdote, for individuality 
in character. The genesis of these traits may be found 
in part in the conditions of his early life. Wiscasset 
is in the heart of a region which can hardly have a 
superior in this country as respects its appeals to the 
historic imagination, and its reflection in minor occur- 
rences of the great movements and events in the prog- 
ress of civilization. Here can be traced the succes- 
sions of barbaric tribes, the collision and supplanting of 
nations, the beginnings of colonization, the advance to 
ordered society, the growth of towns and cities, the 



49 

changes of dynasties and forms of government, tlie 
development of arts and sciences and the institutions 
of education and religion. As a border land, long in 
dispute between France and England and coveted by 
other powers, its history reminds us of that of the 
marches of England and Scotland, the scenes of thrill- 
ing personal adventures, of fierce collisions and battles. 
Again and again has the tide of carnage crimsoned its 
streams. What tales of courage and heroism, of mid- 
night surprise and boldest adventure are associated 
with its hills and promontories, and interwoven with the 
innumerable windings in and out of passes and channels 
from Merry-meeting bay to the waters of the Sheepscot 
and the Damariscotta. Is not Wiscasset in the domin- 
ions of the Basheba of the brave Wawennocks, whose 
subject sagamores commanded, some a thousand, some 
fifteen hundred bowmen? Were not they the con- 
querors of earlier possessors, and themselves in turn 
overcome by the yet more savage Taranti? Nowhere 
more than in this region is the imagination haunted by 
suggestions of a remote antiquity, great populations, 
successions of dusky warriors. And as the dawn of 
authentic history rises, what dim yet stirring visions 
break upon us from Monhegan to Sagadahoc? Now 
Frenchmen and Englishmen join in mortal conflict, now 
pirates free as the winds that fill their sails coast the 
shores and swoop down upon their prey, now advent- 
urers eager for discovery and gain come with pinaace 
and barque and cross. Settlements rise, flourish, and 
disappear. The bravest and boldest press in from all 

4 



50 

commercial nations. The settlers exceed the Indians 
in cunning and endurance. I see at last along these 
flowing rivers, on island and peninsula, on intervale 
and fruitful hill-side and scattered clearings in the 
almost unbroken forest, in growing towns by rapids 
and cataracts and at the harbors, a peaceful commu- 
nity, under law and free, whose origin and training, 
whose lineage and blood remind me not only of the_ 
Puritan history or of the Covenanters of Scotland, but 
of whatever in the collisions of modern nations has 
borne the stamp of power and been famous for persist- 
ence and inastery. It was almost an education in 
great historic forces to be born in one of these sea-board 
and river counties of the District of Maine in the 
beginning of this century. It has been no accident 
that no college in the land has had a roll of alumni, 
in the ratio of numbers, superior to Bowdoin in force 
and brains. If it had a remarkable Faculty it had, 
and could not help having, out of such a population, 
a remarkable body of students. 

Thanks to the Historical Society, in whose labors 
Professor Packard was so active and efficient, the dim 
traditions and the isolated romantic legends and scat- 
tered facts of this early history are coming to light, and 
are acquiring their due significance. When our Professor 
was a boy in Wiscasset, much now understood was little 
known. But men were there whose memories were 
stored with whatever is most thrilling and stimulating 
in these annals. The Indian wars were not far away. 
The events of the Revolution were near. The war of 



51 

1812 was coming, and when it came was felt in every 
home. His father's parish embraced representatives of 
the best influences and forces at work in the land^ It 
was itself a school in history. 

A careful observer will notice in the buds of trees 
the tints and colors which are the glory of the foliage 
of autumn. " Alpheus," writes his father of him at ten 
years of age (I quote from memory), " is so interested 
in his Latin and Greek, and I find so many little serv- 
ices for him to perform, that he does not play more 
than half an hour a week. He rarely asks for any in- 
dulgence." About two years later, upon assurance of 
one of the scholarships founded by John Phillips, he 
entered Exeter Academy. Jared Sparks and John Gor- 
ham Palfrey were "fellow foundationers." George 
Bancroft was also a member of the school. Nathan 
Lord was an assistant teacher. Jeremiah Mason and 
Daniel Webster were then Portsmouth lawyers, and 
"the towering stature of the one, and the tall, some- 
what spare form of the other, together with his dark 
brow and eye and his raven-black hair," left, as he tells 
us, an indelible impression upon him. In 1812, at 
the age of fourteen, he entered college, having read in 
Greek not only the required portions of the New Tes- 
tament, but the Grraeca Minora. Graduating in due 
course, he delivered at Commencement the salutatory 
oration. Three years later he and his friend Tenney, 
afterwards Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of 
Maine, delivered the two Masters' Orations. Then 
began the well-known, ever faithful, and devoted serv- 



52 

ice of the college, as one of its officers. The interven- 
ing period had been spent in teaching, at Gorham 
Academy, in Wiscasset, in Bucksport, and as Princi- 
pal of Hallowell Academy, where the Abbotts, the 
Vanghans and Merricks, and not far away the home of 
Mr. Gardiner, with other cultivated families, had devel- 
oped a society as intelligent and refined as could well 
be found. George Evans was then a rising lawyer in 
Gardiner. 

Tutor Packard Avas first entrusted for two years 
with instruction in Languages and Geometry, and for a 
third year with Languages and Mathematics ; and one 
of his early duties — he used to recall it, I remember, 
with a pleased look — -was to examine my father in 
Mathematics for admission to college and Junior stand- 
ing. From 1822 to 1824, Mathematics were exchanged 
for Metaphysics, and the last year Tutor Smyth — I 
may be pardoned the allusion for its curiousness — be- 
came Instructor in Greek. Matters settled down, we 
may piously believe, into their pre-ordained relations 
when the next year the latter was made Tutor in Math- 
ematics and Natural Philosophy. Rev. Thomas C. 
Upham was added to the Faculty as Professor of Mental 
and Moral Philosophy, and Mr. Packard was promoted 
to the Professorship of the Latin and Greek Languages 
and Literatures vacated by Professor Newman for the 
chair, which he made renowned, of Rhetoric and Ora- 
tory. 

The conjunction of these names tempts to a digres- 
sion which I will not avoid, for it opens a view of 



53 

our Professor's life which has its own value and charm. 
There is a tradition that the genial Professor Cleave- 
land — name always to be mentioned here with peculiar 
lionor — desired that the homes of the younger profes- 
sors should be erected somewhere in the vicinity of his 
own ; not anticipating, perhaps, how numerously and 
merrily — I had almost said noisily — they were to be 
filled. Professor Newman, however, for some reason 
unknown to me, had purchased some land and bu.ilt his 
house within, or on the very edge of the primeval for- 
est. The college campus — yard we always called it in 
the old time — terminated on the south with a fence 
and a row of poplars near what is now the walk from 
Main Street to King Chapel. All beyond was a rough 
clearing with many a pine stump, or unbroken woods. 
Some effective consideration — I believe it was the gift 
of a building lot — ^prevailed at length with two of his 
colleagues to raise a double house in neighborly conti- 
guity with his own. What were the freedom of inter- 
course and the intimacies of friendship between these 
sacred homes it would not be fitting for me here to tell, 
but two remarks may be permitted. Children came not 
a few — there was a colony of us — troops of children with 
at least an average amount, I may safely say, of that 
sort of human nature which sometimes develops neigh- 
borhood and parental complications. Yet no one of us 
all, I am sure, then or since, has ever had the slightest 
suspicion that there was not always between our 
parents as perfect a concord as reigns in heaven. This 
I say in the large and priceless interest of human 



54 

friendships. The other remark is this. Having known 
Professor Packard, as a child knows a man whom he 
sees in the privacies of domestic life, having recited to 
him, as a boy, in his college study, and afterwards, as a 
student, in the lecture rooms, having associated with him 
in the Faculty and been admitted as it were to the privil- 
eges of a son of the house, it is one of the greatest pleas- 
ures of my life to say in this presence, — not as testimony, 
for there is no need of that, but simply for the genuine- 
ness and nobleness which were his, — that here was a man 
who wore no trappings, who hid himself behind no dis- 
guises, who was in reality all that he seemed, who was 
always and everywhere the same perfect gentleman, 
the same humble, sincere, true-hearted, loyal disciple 
of Christ. 

February 23, 1825, was a day of congratulation in 
the college. Two new chairs of instruction had been 
introduced, and three Professors, Newman, Packard, 
and Upham, elected the previous September, were now 
inducted into office. The joy of the occasion found ex- 
pression in an evening concert of sacred music, at 
Stoddard's Hall. Airs, choruses, and anthems were ren- 
dered to the music of Denman and Haydn, Mozart and 
Handel. The first part opened with the Lord's Prayer; 
the second with "Blessed is he that cometh in the name 
of the Lord." At his inauguration Professor Packard 
delivered an address upon the manner in which the 
acquisition of the classical languages and literature can 
best be made. The selection of a theme so practical 
for an inaugural discourse is characteristic, and I have 



been interested, in turning over the pages of the time- 
worn manuscript, not only in the evidences of his pa- 
tient reflection upon the work before him, but also in 
the aggressive and reformatory spirit with which he 
entered upon it. He vigorously attacked the method 
of cramming the beginner's mind with abstract rules 
and principles, and urgently commended the method 
of nature and of practical service which presents first 
concrete facts and instructive instances, and aims at the 
command of a literature rather than the special skill of 
the grammarian and the lexicographer. His private 
papers show with what painstaking assiduity he pur- 
sued, in preparation for the recitation room, the 
intricacies of Greek syntax and the niceties and refine- 
ments of linguistic lore, but I doubt if any of his 
pupils realized how minute and extensive were his 
studies in these directions. We knew that he was 
exact and sure, that he weighed the force of every par- 
ticle, that he could supply felicitous renderings, but 
we were still more impressed with his genuine love of 
the classics, his admiration of the delicacy and grace of 
Horace, his appreciation of the pungent satire of Ju- 
venal, his response to the serious purpose, the law-reveal- 
ing, rhythmic movement of the Greek tragedy. He said 
but little in comment on the immortal works we read 
with him, and still less either in praise or blame of our 
recitations. A slight frown, a sort of perplexed and 
baffled look when we missed ; a lighting up of the face 
and lifting of the brow, and a somewhat quicker use 
of the recording pencil when he was pleased — these 



56 

were all ; but we always knew whether he was satisfied 
or not. And so simple and evident was his own admir- 
ation of the classics he taught us that their authors, as 
it were, stood before us, his personal friends, Avhom we 
were affronting if we did not do our best to enter re- 
spectfully and sympathetically into their thoughts and 
fancies. "I knew liim first," writes President Hamlin, 
"in 1830. He was then apparently in the very bloom 
of early manhood. He was amiable, cheerful, social 
with a student. If any one went to him with a ques- 
tion about a difficult passage in Greek he satisfied him 
without any attempt to overwhelm him with a show 
of learning. I remember very distinctly the deep inter- 
est with which we read the Anabasis to him. He made 
us follow the heroic march with an interest we had 
never had in any classic story. His teaching was clear, 
never verbose nor redundant. He had the faculty of 
not saying too much. His language was always classic. 
There was a certain finish about his style that could 
not but be noticed. It was always a pleasure to listen 
to a lecture or any thing which he had prepared with 
care. The fine natural elements of his mind had been 
brought into perfect harmony and polished to the high- 
est degree by the study of Greek literature, — of the 
most perfect models which man has given to his 
fellow-man." 

In the Catalogue of 1831 I find the first allusion 
to his " Lectures on Classical Literature." They were 
prepared for by a diligent use of the best editions, and 
the careful stud}^ of modern criticism, and were written 
in a style of perfect clearness and simplicity. 



bi 



In 1837 he published his edition of " Xenophon's 
Memorabilia of Socrates, with English Notes," which 
soon passed to a second edition, and was adopted as a 
text-book in several of the colleges in this country. 
It was commended at the time by a writer in the 
North American Review for the thoroughness and fidel- 
ity with which it was edited, and for the great judg- 
ment and helpfulness of the English notes. 

During the early period of his professorship he be- 
stowed much attention upon the theory of education 
and upon the art of teaching. He wrote upon these 
subjects articles for the North American Review and 
other publications. He delivered addresses and lect- 
ures before teachers' meetings in this State and else- 
Mdiere, or to his college classes. One of these addresses, 
pronounced at the dedication of the Teachers' Semi- 
nary at Gorham, was published in 1837, and another on 
the "Characteristics of a Good English School," the 
' following year. He advocated earnestly the value of 
classical studies as a part of a system of public educa- 
tion, founding his plea upon the broadest conceptions 
of mental and moral culture and of the welfare of 
society and of the State. The conviction is rapidly 
growing that the increasingly diversified needs of mod- 
ern society demand more and more specialized methods 
of training. The higher institutions of learning are by 
the necessities of this development pushed nearer and 
nearer to the position of a university which includes 
within its curriculum the opportunities of all knowledge. 
But somewhere in our system must be maintained and 



58 

vigilantly guarded the scheme and method of instruc- 
tion which makes more of the man than of his work, 
which secures that general discipline of all the powers 
which is essential to their best specialization. This 
conception, which has been the main motive of the 
American college, Professor Packard develops, in these 
essays and addresses, with clearness and vigor. He 
was governed by it in his relations to his colleagues. 
Highly as he prized the studies of his own department, 
he never claimed for them an undue place. When he 
entered on. his work the Natural Sciences, under a rec- 
ognized leader in this department, had gained here a 
special prominence. Longfellow and Goodwin soon 
gave to Modern Languages a position they occupied 
nowhere else. No one more heartily than Professor 
Packard has welcomed, as the times have demanded 
them, changes and expansions of the curriculum. He 
was governed by principle, and his principles of educa- 
tion I believe were sound to the core. 

His interest in popular education was manifested in 
deed as well as word. I find this pencilled note in his 
hand-writing: "I have been all my days a ]3upil and 
teacher, and I do not recollect the time when the sight 
of a school learning did not excite a lively interest in 
my heart." In these words, doubtless, we have the 
secret of the diligence and patience with which for 
many years he served on the town committee for com- 
mon schools, visiting them faithfully in various districts, 
and always supporting and aiding the teachers in their 
work. 



59 

I can but glance at the various offices he filled in 
the last quarter — a little more than twenty-one years — 
of his life. After holding the chair of Classical Litera- 
ture forty-one years, during three years of which he was 
also Professor of Rhetoric and Oratory, and one Col- 
lins Professor of Natural and Revealed Religion, his 
entire service was transferred to this chair, which he 
filled to the last. During twelve of these years he also 
had charge of the library, which had always been as the 
apple of his eye. The closing year he officiated as 
President of the college, a service which now appears 
as a beautiful completion of his career. 

His helpfulness to the church, which has always 
stood in such intimate and important relations to the 
college, has been fully presented in a published discourse 
of its pastor. I will only say of this aspect of Professor 
Packard's life, that it deeply impresses me with the 
greatness of the service he rendered. The purity of its 
quality you know. Perhaps you may not have thought 
of its variety and vast accumulation. What is it in any 
community for a man of station and influence to en- 
gage with an invariable constancy through the life-time 
of more than two generations in all the offices of Chris- 
tian intercourse, in prayers by the bedside of the weary 
and sick, in consolations to the bereaved, in hymn and 
prayer, in exhortation and counsel, in testimony and 
invitation and warning, in public discourse on the 
Lord's day, and in reverent, believing, comforting ad- 
ministration of holy sacrament ? One of my very earliest 
recollections of Professor Packard is his standing, Sun- 



60 

day after Sunday, with the bass singers in the choir, 
and of his superintendence of the Sabbath school and 
watchful care of its library. An absence of the pastor, 
during which he occupied the pulpit, brought him into 
prominence as a preacher, and from that time he ap- 
peared frequently, as his services were solicited, in this 
and neighboring pulpits. Coleridge has said that good 
sense is the body of poetic genius, and Mr. Lowell — in 
whose return to America we all rejoice — has recently 
affirmed, in eulogy of the poet Gray, "that if there is 
one thing more than another which insures the lead in 
life, it is the commonplace." Professor Packard's ser- 
mons, while usually finished in form, had this body of 
good sense and were on the level of men's lives. They 
interested people of every class. They dealt invariably 
with the more vital and practical, and therefore with 
the broadest, themes of the gospel. If they had a spe- 
cial adaptation to students it was in the abundance of 
the illustrations drawn from the biographies and say- 
ings of men of letters or prominent in public life. The 
impression was doubtless made, which another has re- 
ferred to, that our Professor in his varied reading and 
scholarly acquisitions, had, as a constant aim, the dis- 
covery of materials in whose use he could most effect- 
ively commend to us the soundest principles and high- 
est aims of conduct. Very many of his discourses, I 
presume, were prepared with special reference to the 
demands of the Saturday evening lecture, a religious 
service long maintained. Of his private and personal 
influence in the college as a moral counselor and 



61 

Christian friend, I will not venture to speak. His 
record is on high, and many there are who witness to 
his Christian wisdom and fidelity. 

No sketch of his life would be complete which omit- 
ted to notice his contributions to history, and his labors 
in connection with the society whose treasures he for 
many years vigilantly guarded. I leave for others, who 
purpose, I understand, to deal with this phase of his 
life, its appropriate treatment, but cannot forbear to 
express my sense of the value of his labors in this 
sphere, and my admiration of the richness, grace, and 
perfect adaptation of his three great historical ad- 
dresses : one, delivered at the centennial celebration of 
the Congregational church at Wiscasset; another, at 
the semi-centennial of the General Conference of Maine ; 
and the third, the address to this Association delivered 
in 1858, a tribute to Alma Mater which the college 
would do well to re-publish as the most effective tract 
it could circulate to deepen and widen a practical in- 
terest in its prosperity. 

As I sketched at the opening of this address the 
character of Professor Packard's father, you saw many 
of the most marked traits of the son. The one was a 
man of strictest punctuality, method, and diligence. 
The other was equally systematic and industrious. 
Through my Brunswick life he had a morning recita- 
tion immediately after college prayers (which for most 
of the year were at six o'clock). His family were 
expected to be in readiness for a devotional service at 
seven, when the boards of the college, the officers, the 



62 

students, were as sure to be remembered in prayer as 
his own immediate household. Immediately after 
breakfast the Professor could be seen in his checked 
blue and black Rob-Roy jacket, or lighter garment as 
the season might be, and with axe or garden-tool. Nine 
o'clock found him in his study — for long No. 7 in North 
College, (now Winthrop Hall) ; then, the same number 
in Appleton. Every hour and minute had its appointed 
task or service through the day, including the short 
invariable nap immediately after dinner. The hours of 
labor ran on far into the night. There was always 
time for a neighborly call and other peoples' needs. 

You recall the charming picture Heine draws of the 
habits of the philosopher Kant. " Rising, coffee-drink- 
ing, writing, reading, lectures, dining, walking — every- 
thing had its set time; and the neighbors knew with 
perfect accuracy that it was half-past three o'clock, 
when Immanuel Kant, in his gray body-coat, with his 
rattan in his hand, came out of his house-door, and bent 
his steps toward the little linden-alley, . . . and when 
the weather was dull his servant, old Lampe, was seen 
walking behind him, with anxious concern, carrying a 
long umbrella under his arm, like a picture of provi- 
dence." With almost equal exactness might the dwell- 
ers on Main Street, from our Professor's house to the 
village post-office, have set their watches by his transit. 

It was due to this method that he was able to 
attend to so wide a range of duties. Besides the many 
services I have already indicated, he was almost an 
assistant in })arish visiting to the Rev. Dr. George E. 



Adams and his successors, who rehed greatly on his 
judgment and tact in cases of peculiar delicacy. He 
was much engaged in the Temperance reform. He was 
pre-eminently the member of the Faculty who looked 
after the routine, keeping everything in motion and on 
time. He performed an incalculable amount of work 
on the successive Triennials, — a labor fitly consum- 
mated in his completion of the History of the College 
begun by his friend, the first President of this Associa- 
tion, Nehemiah Cleaveland. 

His father was a strict disciplinarian. All his own 
instincts and habits were on the side of law and author- 
ity. His ethical maxims were so pure, and the course 
of his life had brought him so little into contact with 
men of diverse standards of life and moral habits, that 
his judgment of wrong-doers was naturally severe. 
The experience of years expanded his nature. Mitu 
est maturus. 

His long and loving study of the classics lent a 
peculiar attraction to his style, as his early training 
gave him the most polished manners, and nature his 
tall and graceful form and strikingly handsome coun- 
tenance. But even in the charm of that which was 
most external there was mingled the higher grace of 
that which is spiritual and eternal. His style was 
rooted in the man; his invariable courtesy was an 
expression of his character. The just, the true, the 
right, were his aim. His most appropriate and admir- 
able memoir of the saintly Appleton reflects his own 
ideals. He had great loyalty to men and to institutions. 



64 

Not apt to be foremost in aggressive work he could be 
true as steel. 

His most conspicuous moral trait was utter fidelity. 
With this was inevitably connected constant growth 
in excellence and power. Aspiring to no leadership he 
won a master}^ rarely equaled, perhaps never surpassed, 
in academic circles. He loved the college with a life- 
long devotion and the college rose up to do him rever- 
ence. His life was a whole-hearted consecration to 
unselfish and noble ends, and the law of the universe, 
more enduring, mightier than any law of the ma- 
terial creation, the law that he who serves shall reign, 
bore him to his throne. 

I recall but one academic career in this country 
that approaches his in duration, that of Dr. Nott, Pres- 
ident of Union College for sixty-two years ; and but 
one in England which exceeds it, that of Martin Joseph 
Routh, who was appointed Librarian of Magdalen 
College, Oxford, in 1781, and President in 1791, and 
who died in 1854 after a service of seventy-three years. 
Professor Packard was an oflicer of Bowdoin College, 
in uninterrupted service, sixty-five years. 

What a beautiful old age was his, fit coronation of 
so simple, pure, beneficent a life ! 

Jacunda senectus, 
Cujus erant mores, qualis facundia, mite 
Ingenium. 

Dr. Routh died in his one hundredth year. Accu- 
rate himself to the last degree, he was annoyed when 
near his end by a newspaper notice which stated his 



65 

age — " I am described as being a little younger than 
Pitt. The blockhead, as he knew my age, might 
have known that I was four or five years older." It 
was reported to our Professor that some one had 
spoken of him as an old man of ninety-two. "Why 
did he not say," was the reply with unfailing courtesy, 
"that I am a young man of eighty-five? " So he seemed 
to us, the color still brilliant on his cheek even after 
death. 

More than ever before, in the closing years the 
cheerfulness, the trust, the hope and charity of his 
Christian faith shone out. He dismissed another 
college class with a father's benediction — who that 
heard it will forget that closing prayer af the last 
Commencement ? At church, the following Lord's Day, 
he sang to the end 

''My faith looks up to Thee," 

the last stanza how prophetic ! 

He sleeps with McKeen, and Appleton, and col- 
leagues and friends of many years in the ancient pine- 
girt cemetery, 

'' Where the shade 
He loved will guard his slumbers night and day. 

Fitting close 

For such a life ! His twelve long sunny hours 
Bright to the edge of darkness : then the calm 
Eepose of twilight, and a crown of stars." ^ 

1 Quarterly Review, vol. 146, p. 39. 
5 



CHARACTER 



A SATURDAY EVENING LECTURE 



BY PROFESSOR A. S. PACKARD, D.D.* 



1 John ii. ll : "I have written uuto you, young men, because ye are 
■strong, and the word of God abideth in you, and ye have overcome the 
wicked one." 

The wise man says : " The glory of young men is 
their strength." The apostle in our text only states 
more fully what he had just before written at the ex- 
pense of what might seem a needless repetition. "I 
write unto you, young men, because ye have overcome 
the wicked one." The aged apostle looked to the 
young men, now in the prime and vigor of manhood, 
with special hope for the church and the world, because 
they had given the best proof of vigor and energy in 
overcoming, through the word of God abiding in them, 
"the wicked one." There are always fond hopes clus- 
tering around the path of a young man who is setting 
forth in the career of life. Especially is it thus with 
him who goes out with the great advantages of a lib- 
eral education. He bears with him means of influence 
which wealth or position of itself does not give. Who 
can estimate the amount or value of the influence now 

*This address was delivered in the Cleavelaud Lecture Room, November 17, 
1877, and again at the same place October 9, 1880. It is printed to serve alike as 
an illustration and a reminder of the many similar efforts for the moral ad- 
vancement and spiritual growth of the undergraduates. 



67 

exercised by the graduates of our colleges on our land 
and on the world? 

But what hope for the best interests of mankind 
would there be in this great amount of influence, were 
it directed by corrupt principle and unsound moral 
sentiment? "The glory of young men is their 
strength " in whatever is just, pure, honest, lovely, and 
of good report. Nothing is more settled in the actual 
working of society, than that known immorality in a 
man is fatal to success, so far as that depends on the 
opinions or preferences or patronage of men. It was 
at one time doubtful which of the two distinguished 
rivals in the British Parliament, Pitt and Fox, would 
win the race in the political arena. Fox had the 
advantage in those qualities which attract popularity ; 
but he failed through want of character. 

But more than this, men withhold confidence from 
the intriguer or the knave, however brilliant may be his 
powers, as even from the man of fair character, if he 
prove himself weak, obsequious, and cringing. Noth- 
ing more inevitably or more rapidly reduces a man's 
position with his fellow-men, than the impression of 
false-heartedness or pusillanimity in a matter involving 
principle. It is not enough then to avoid transgres- 
sions of the moral code. Positive virtues are de- 
manded by a public, always jealous and somewhat 
exacting. We need not merely harmless men, but 
strong men. These times especially demand strong, 
reliable, inflexible virtue. Let it be borne in mind 
that the seeds of such virtue are sown early, and its 



68 

most important culture comes early, or scarcely at all. 
What are the conditions or the laws of such culture ? 
Your moral philosophy inculcates the view, that strong, 
reliable virtue is not a spontaneous growth, but that 
it comes of trial, discipline, struggle, and conflict. 

One of the first experiences of a young man at his 
first leaving the watch and care of home, is likely to 
be, that his views of life which have been inculcated 
with most tender solicitude and assiduity are at once 
exposed to strange and sometimes even revolting 
influences in the new associations into which he is 
thrown. His notions of morality, of conduct and 
manners even, are rudely assailed at every turn. 
What is he to do in the new conflicts which he must 
face? Is he to yield to the prevailing tendencies of 
the society into which he is introduced ? Is he to lay 
one side the maxims of integrity, of virtue, of manli- 
ness, which have been inculcated as the guide of his 
life, and to adopt the new maxims which perhaps 
govern the new world around him ? Is it merely a 
question of temporary expediency and of policy, and 
is he to follow the multitude to do evil ? Is he to cast 
away his Bible, to discard conscience, renounce the 
dictates of his better nature, and throw himself upon 
the current of opinion and sentiment without a strug- 
gle or a question ? Scarcely a youth but has just this 
trial forced upon him. 

Let that inquiry rest awhile, and let us look at 
another matter. A young man enters the career of 
business, or of some profession. There is an honest, 



69 

honorable mode of conducting his vocation. Some 
are ready for every trick of trade, — for any sharp turn 
of practice in their profession. Heedless of character, 
their maxim is, that the end justifies the means. Shall 
the young adventurer adopt this as his law of commer- 
cial or professional life ? Every educated young man 
in our land is soon called to decide what part he will 
act in the political events of the time. Shall he frame 
his theory of politics with careful reflection and study 
of the great questions relating to our government and 
institutions, independently, conscientiously, in view of 
his duty and obligations as a good citizen, or shall he 
reject conscience and judgment in the matter, and be 
governed solely by a selfish regard to his own personal 
interests in the case ? The course which a high-minded 
individual will choose every one knows. Selfishness 
often gains its ends, but, let it be noticed, through cun- 
ning concealment of itself; for nothing is more certain 
under the constitution of things in this world than 
that the public favor will never be knowingly and per- 
manently bestowed upon the self-scheming, self-inter- 
ested tradesman or politician or professional man. 

Now to return to the inquiry, what is a youth to 
do when he is put to breast the torrent of wrong prin- 
ciples and evil influences into which he may have been 
thrown; when questions of right and wrong are 
brought home to him, and he is called upon to meet 
them and to decide for himself his course of action, 
what is he to do ? Most likely among the influences 
addressed to him to lead him astray from what in his 



70 

real convictions he is persuaded to be the path of rec- 
titude and honor, is the exhortation to be a man, and 
to assert his independence. And that is just what we 
say to him. Let his true manhood decide the question. 
If he have not manliness strong enough to settle this 
prime question of his life, he may give up the hope of 
a true manliness for anything else. True manliness 
works from within, from the inmost recesses of the 
heart and character, outward. If one does not early 
form the purpose and habit of resistance to temptation, 
he may as well give up the voyage. His bark is un- 
seaworthy, and will ere long become a wreck, or if 
not entirely so, his voyage will be fruitless. 

Now what we urge as a most valuable quality in a 
young man and essential to the highest success in life 
is that just indicated, the power of carrying himself 
well and honorably through such crises of his moral 
history. We commonly call it independence of char- 
acter. The remainder of this discourse will be devoted 
to remarks on true independence of character ; a trait 
held in high repute among young men, and which de- 
serves careful consideration, inasmuch as there are 
serious mistakes concerning it. It seems at first a mis- 
application of terms to attribute independence in any 
sense to so dependent a creature as man. In no re- 
spect can he be independent of Him in whom we live 
and move and have our being. Free agency and ac- 
countability do not exclude the agency and control of 
God. Nor can any one sunder himself from depend- 
ence on his fellow-men. All men are bound together 



71 

by mutual dependence and reciprocal influence. 
There is in truth no such thing as absolute independ- 
ence of a human being in action or thought. What 
then do we mean when we speak of independence of 
character? We mean only, that one's opinions and 
sentiments, his judgments of men and things and of 
conduct, are the result of his own convictions. He 
does not adopt an opinion or choose a course of action 
because others think and act thus or so ; but, guided 
by reason and conscience, he decides for himself the 
line of truth and duty, and follows it. This does not 
exclude influence from others, nor does it imply neces- 
sarily a dogmatic spirit, or dogged pertinacity adhering 
to its own determinations because they are its own, 
and rejecting another's because they are not its own. 
The true independence of which we speak seeks for 
light from every source, and its decisions are made in 
view of the reasons which appear. Washington, in 
difiicult and important matters of state, was accus- 
tomed to request the opinions of his cabinet in writing, 
and then to decide in view of their judgments and his 
own. The author of "Autumn Holidays of a Country 
Parson " remarks of Archbishop Whately, one of the 
most marked men of this century, that one of his posi- 
tive characteristics was his independence of thought. 
He possessed this almost in excess. He thought that 
to the Archbishop of Dublin the fact that any ojDinion 
is very generally entertained, so far from being a rec- 
ommendation, is rather a reason for regarding it with 
suspicion. It is amusing how regularly we find it oc- 



72 

curring in the prefaces to his works, that one reason 
for the publication of each, is his belief, that erroneous 
views are commonly entertained as to the subject of it. 
*'And when we consider," he adds, "hoAV most men 
receive their opinions upon all subjects ready-made, we 
cannot appreciate too highl}^ one who, in the emphatic 
sense of the phrase, thinks for himself." He is, how- 
ever, careful to add, that "there is hardly an instance 
in which so much originality of thought can be found 
in connection with so much justice and sobriety of 
thought. In him we have independence without the 
least trace of wrong-headedness." A striking and 
memorable example of this independence and firmness 
of character is recorded in the parliamentary career of 
Sir Fowell Buxton. At a critical period of the slavery 
question in the British Parliament, he proposed to in- 
troduce an important motion. Some of the best 
friends of the cause and of the government were 
urgent he should not press the question and bring the 
house to a division. But with all courtesy and in a 
most touching manner, he insisted, and the house di- 
vided. His motion was not carried; but the defeat 
was accounted a victory. " One of the finest moral 
pictures," says a London lecturer, referring to this in- 
cident, "the resistance of the individual against 
united numbers, the victory of personal conviction, 
self-trust, adherence to the sense of obligation and 
right, over every sort of influence, may be seen in his 
conduct on that night. His unalterable purpose looked 
like dead, downright obstinacy, — as the most rational 



73 

firmness always does when it seems a reproach, or is an 
inconvenience to others. Some of his friends blamed 
what they termed his obstinacy ; but the minister said, 
' It has settled the question.' " 

The difference is very great between the wrong- 
headedness of a man who merely takes a thing into his 
head, and doggedly sticks to it, and the inflexibility of 
him, who, under a full sense of all the responsibility of 
deciding a question of moment, "thinks it out and 
knows what he is after." 

Here was a memorable example of exalted inde- 
pendence and firmness of character, but it was brought 
into exercise in an important public emergency. A 
superior mental and moral character was put to the 
hardest test by the call of a great occasion. We have 
an illustration of the same great quality in a matter of 
ordinary morality in the late John Q. Adams. When 
minister plenipotentiary to the Court of Holland, he, 
then a young man, became a member, and, from his 
ability and culture, a favorite member, of a social club 
of diplomatists. Their meeting, which had been held 
on a week-day, was adjourned to the evening of the 
Sabbath, but Mr. Adams was not present. The meeting 
was adjourned to a second and third Sabbath evening, 
and he was again and again absent. It excited great 
surprise. On returning to the week-day evening, he 
was in his place, and was met with the cordial greet- 
ings of his friends, with their regrets that his duties 
had interfered with his attendance. He at once in- 
formed them that he had not been detained by business. 



74 

but the reason of his absence was that they had met on 
the Lord's day ; that he had been educated where the 
Sabbath was strictly observed; that he had watched 
closely the effects of its observance, and had found 
them salutary ; and that his experience and observation 
had taught him the unspeakable advantages of a faith- 
ful observance of the day. It was an instance of the 
high character and elevated independence of a young 
man in the midst of a brilliant circle of European di- 
plomatists. Such examples command the unmingled 
respect and admiration of mankind. 

It has been noticed that I have been careful to 
speak of true independence. If we observe narrowly, 
we shall find, if I mistake not, that the independence 
in special favor with many who have voice and influ- 
ence in the street, and in places of concourse, is a far 
different rule of conduct. What they advocate is an 
independence of salutary restraint ; independence of 
the councils of experience and wisdom, and of the 
teachings of the divine word. That is plainly the 
principle of following the multitude to do evil. It may 
be more properly termed a slavery to false pride, and to 
the lower inclinations of the heart. When one tosses 
his neck to the yoke of conscience, discards reason and 
prudence, rebels against the impulses of his better nat- 
ure, overleaps the barriers which have been set to 
hedge around evil propensities, and gives the reins to 
passion and appetite, what is it but the worst slavery 
ever suffered in this world? The great conflict of 
every one is with unholy desires and inclinations within 



75 

and unhallowed influences without; with temptations 
to stand well with his associates, to compliance with 
prevalent customs, to secure supposed personal inter- 
ests. Successful resistance to all these, and obedience 
to conscience and the will of God, constitute the hard- 
est struggles and the greatest triumphs of life. We 
are careful therefore to insist on a true independence, 
because we seek a quality which strengthens character 
and develops a true manliness. 

True independence of character, we say then, de- 
cides matters of opinion, of action, of conduct, on their 
merits. It is based on clear discernment of truth and 
right, and devotion to it. It believes, not because oth- 
ers believe thus or so. It acts because it deems it right 
so to act, not because it is for its interest, or that it 
may be of the stronger party. It will not endure 
dictation ; it yields no cringing compliance ; it is jeal- 
ous of unwarrantable interference. De Tocqueville 
heard that the government was recommending his 
election as a candidate for the National Assembly of 
France, from the arrondissement where he lived, for 
which post his neighbors had proposed his name. He 
at once wrote to Count Mold, his personal friend and 
President of the Cabinet, that he could not consent to 
be a government candidate ; not, as he declared, be- 
cause he was opposed to the government, or the minis- 
try, but because he wished to vote conscientiously and 
freely, which he could not do if he allowed himself to 
be placed in nomination by the government. He would 
not hold office at the sacrifice of his entire independ- 



76 

ence. But, as the result, liis independence cost him 
his election. 

It is important to notice, that we make a sharp dis- 
crimination between the quality we are considering, 
and self-will, which esteemeth itself above all others, 
never yields its own preferences or notions, and makes 
no account of the opinions and wishes of others, is nar- 
row-minded, not taking broad views ; and also that 
other trait, near of kin, pride of opinion, which springs 
of conceit, admits no distrust or question of the wis- 
dom of its decisions, and demands homage ; and again, 
a domineering temper, which covets ascendency, and 
loves to rule for its own sake, and does not hesitate to 
overbear and trample down whoever and whatever op- 
poses. The noblest men in the annals of the world, 
the greatest leaders of affairs, have been gentle, open 
to counsel, compliant, forbearing, generous, magnani- 
mous. 

The independence of which we speak, then, is a 
quality of superior men. The weak-minded and vacil- 
lating are not capable of it. It carries with it a nobility 
better than all heraldry can bestow, and receives a hom- 
age which wealth and station cannot give. It makes 
heroes whose names may be unknown to history. It is 
the offspring of a genuine courage far above any daring 
of the battlefield. 

Every young man thrown into indiscriminate com- 
panionship in college, or out, has abundant opportuni- 
ties for the exercise of this high qualit3^ Genuine in- 
dependence will never vaunt itself; others may not 



77 

know of the conflict it costs or its victories ; but it has 
daily occasion for the trial of its quality. Better for 
the possessor, surely, to resolve to act for himself at 
once, and to establish the habit of acting for himself, in 
view of truth and right, calmly, deliberately, resolutely. 
Let him succumb, in an important turn of life, to the 
influence of others against his better sense and convic- 
tions ; the great danger is, that he will never recover 
his lost manliness. Deficiencies or defects caused by 
negligence, he may repair in a measure by future 
effort ; but a short course of supple compliance with 
the false maxims that abound, and with the leadership 
of base and designing companions, inflicts a wound on 
his true manhood which neither time nor care can heal. 
Just at this point let me say that the value of the 
quality of character we are considering is never more 
obvious than when one is led to contemplate seriously, 
and with personal application, his relations to God and 
the divine government. In no circumstances is it of so 
much moment to him to act for himself in view of 
truth and right, and to form the deliberate purpose 
that, whatever others may think or say, he will obey 
conscience and God. The lack of precisely that deter- 
mination of soul has proved the eternal ruin of myriads. 
How often have one's feet been on the threshold of 
eternal life, and the fear of others hindered him from 
the decisive step ? Some one writes : " I once stood on 
a wharf watching a vessel get ready for sea. Topsails 
and courses were loosed, the jib hung from the boom, 
ready to be run up. At that moment the pilot sprung 



78 

upon the quarter-deck, inquiring, 'All ready?' 'All 
ready, sir,' was the reply. Rapidly commands were 
given and obeyed, the vessel began to pay off ; but 
something held her fast. The stern hawser was fouled 
ashore, and they could not cast it off from the timber- 
head. ' Cut it then,' was the sharp order. ' Never 
mind the hawser, cut it, before she loses her way ! ' 
A seaman drew his knife across the strands — the rope 
parted, the vessel forged ahead, the sails were run up 
and trimmed, and she filled away." My friend, you 
may be ready to swing loose from the world and its 
follies, and set forth on your voyage heavenward ; but 
fear of some companions, an unwillingness to give up 
some known sin, or to perform some known duty, that 
lack of true independence and determination of soul, 
may yet hold you fast to the world and to death. Cut 
loose, by one blow, whatever hinders, and God speed 
your way. 

One can scarcely exaggerate in setting forth the 
value of true independence of mind and character in 
life, especially, I would say, to publicly educated men. 
An educated man is presumed to have opinions on all 
important questions of the time. His education, of 
itself, gives him influence and position, if he employs a 
common degree of activity and energy, and thus calls 
into exercise his judgment and all his moral force amid 
the conflicting interests of society. Men look to him 
for guidance ; he gives tone to public sentiment. If he 
then would meet his responsibilities as becomes a true 



79 

man, and do the good of which the means are m his 
hand, he must cultivate this high quality. 

True independence and firmness of character is 
needed at all times, to discountenance the narrow par- 
tisanship of politics, and to counteract the designs 
of reckless, self-seeking ambition and covetousness ; 
and so outside of the sphere of political life, amid 
the heartlessness and selfishness of the world of busi- 
ness or of the professions, in city or country. Said Lord 
Chesterfield, a man of the world, writing of London 
life : " I have been on the other side of the scenes. I 
know what lies beneath and behind. Beautiful to ap- 
pearance are the world and men, as to the outside show 
of life ; — but, to see as I have seen, the ropes and 
pulleys of the stage ; to have to smell the smouldering 
tallow candles ; and to be annoyed with the oils and 
paints used for getting up the deceit, — it is enough to 
sicken us with the thought of the hollowness of all 
things." Even in such a scene of things, under the 
benevolent ordering of a wise and holy Providence, 
" He that followeth after righteousness and mercy, 
•findeth life, righteousness, and honor." " The ways of 
man are before the eyes of the Lord, and He pondereth 
all his goings." " He is a buckler to them that walk 
uprightly." 

Cultivate by every means this ennobling trait of 
character. You will find it a safeguard. It will fortify 
you against the wiles and cunning of unscrupulous, 
designing, self-scheming men. They dare not approach 
a man clothed with the panoply of tried independence 



80 

and virtue. It imparts weight to character. There is 
in truth no weight of character where it is "y^^anting. 
The opinions and action of one, who is known to be 
governed by the law of truth and justice, command 
respect,, even of knaves. His influence is sought, not 
as that of ordinary men, but on account of its inherent 
value and weight. " A wise man is strong ; yea, a man 
of knowledge increaseth strength." 

The basis of a high-toned character is in fixed moral 
principle, and the only source of pure principle is in 
the religion of Christ. The fountain of character is 
in the heart, and that must be right with God to ensure 
a character in harmony with truth and holiness. The 
highest style of character springs from the life of God 
in the soul, — from the spirit of holiness in the centre of 
our being. Is it not plain, then, that the trait which 
has been occupying our thoughts in this evening's exer- 
cise is strengthened and energized by the power of the 
gospel of the Redeemer, and not only so, but that it is 
at once elevated in its tone and has a new value im- 
parted to it, when the grace of God has wrought its 
full work in the soul? A higher and broader sphere of 
action is at once opened for its exercise ; it comes under 
the influence of new and holier motives. He who has 
become a man in Christ Jesus is many times more a 
man than before. Examples of the most exalted inde- 
pendence and fearlessness are found in the Scriptures. 
Familiarity with the sacred volume, the daily reading 
of it, and meditation upon it, tend greatly to purify 
and elevate the mental and moral character ; just as fre- 



81 

quent intercourse with good men, by the law of assim- 
ilation, tends to improve ourselves in manners and life. 
An English barrister, accustomed to train students to 
the Bar, and not himself a religious man, was once 
asked, why he put students, from the first, to the study 
and analysis of the most difficult portions of the Script- 
ure. He replied : " Because there is nothing else like it 
in any language for the development of mind and char- 
acter." Be persuaded, if Christ is now in you the hope 
of glory, to be steadfast, unmovable in his service, ever 
watchful lest you bring reproach on Him and His cause ; 
and if you are yet without this blessed hope, see to it, 
that you make no compromise with error, or with evil, 
lest, through your own lack of purpose and resolution, 
you fail in the great issues of this life and come short 
at last of life eternal. 



REMARKS 

By professor PACKARD 

AT THE CELEBRATION OF HIS S4TH BIRTHDAY BY THE MAINE HISTORICAL 
SOCIETY.* 



Mr. President, — I could not be more surprised than 
when I saw in the press notice of the July meeting of 
the society, mention of the action which has brought 
us together this evening. I would express my most 
grateful acknowledgment for the compliment and honor 
thus done me. When the late eminent Dr. Guthrie, 
one of the brilliant ornaments of the Scotch church of 
Edinburgh, on retiring from the pulpit in consequence 
of ill health, received a testimonial from the churches 
of Scotland, he wrote a friend : " I suppose some may 
think that this has blown me up. But no, it has caused 
me humiliation." In myself, so far from elation by this 
notice of the society and the circumstances which have 
attended it, I have felt deep humiliation. I cannot 
attribute all this to what I have done (that falls so far 
short of any promise or expectation which such oppor- 
tunities as I have had would have justified), but to the 
fact that through Divine blessing, my quiet, uniform 
manner of life and a firm constitution, almost exempt 
from sickness or infirmity of any sort, have brought me 

* These remarks were made at Portland, December 23, 1882, iu reply to 
words of introduction by Hon. James W. Bradbury, President of the Society. 
Thev are taken from the report printed in tlie Portland Press of December 2.'ith. 



83 

to what is considered advanced years. Not to deeds, 
but to years I owe this distinction. 

Human lives, considered in their earthly relations, 
may be regarded in two aspects, that of anticipation — 
looking ahead — and that of retrospection — looking back. 
The child is ever hoping to reach his teens. The 
Roman boy anticipated with desire when at fifteen or 
sixteen he should throw down the prsetexta and before 
the praetor, with public ceremonials, surrounded by 
family and friends, assume the toga virilis. None of us 
can forget the important era in our lives when we cast 
our first ballot, and so asserted our claim to citizenship 
and to the rights of a freeman of the Republic and a 
voice in the nation, and then we look forward to the year 
when we can represent town or district or state in the 
legislatures or in Congress, so far always looking for- 
ward — ever inclined to increase our score of years. 
We now enter on a period not so definitely marked 
when we are less disposed to overcast our years. You 
remember that in the revolution there was a region 
above New York on the Hudson, called the Neutral 
Ground. The traveler was required to answer whether 
he was from up or down. Much depended on the reply, 
and there was often doubt whether a true answer was 
given. So in the circuit of our years we enter on what, 
in regard to age, may be termed a neutral ground — a 
zone of uncertainty — -we are not quite sure of definite 
results. Napoleon I. was informed that among the 
ladies of his court there was a difference as to which 
should precede in a court ceremonial. That was a 



84 

question of rank, and might require search of state or 
family record — in England a study of Burke's Peerage, 
or the " Heraldric Journal," perhaps the exploration of 
the one hundred or more folios of the Record commis- 
sion. The emperor thought he would settle the diffi- 
culty, and ordered that the oldest should precede. It 
did not settle the case at all. There was at once 
great hesitation, deference and holding back. No one 
was willing to assume the dignity and honor of being 
the oldest lady in the court circle. Some years ago, a 
witness was placed on the stand in the court in this 
city. The counsel, for reasons best known to himself, 
was urgent to ascertain the age of the witness, but his 
skill could not extort a definite reply. Judge Mellen 
suggested that it might answer, if she should be put 
down as of " no particular age." 

In due time, however, in spite of dissimulation and 
any contrivance of ours, age gives decided indications 
that it is near at hand. The eye becomes less prompt 
and definite. We repair to the oculist shyly, not 
that we are growing old, but by incaution we have 
abused the organ. For a time gray hairs are here and 
there upon us, and we know it not ; but we at length, 
to our chagrin, perhaps, detect the intrusion. We are 
consoled by what Herbert Spencer has recently affirmed, 
that, as one effect of the hurry, restlessness and worri- 
ment of American life, gray hairs with us appear ten 
years earlier than on European heads. He is a man of 
wide observation, a philosopher; and, though we reject 
some of his philosophy, we will take that as true 



85 

science. It might be a good thing to get up a testi- 
monial to him, gratefully acknowledging his discern- 
ment in this matter. We often admire the almond tree 
flourishing over heads and forms too young for such 
flowering, still brilliant in their beauty, and active and 
graceful in movement as ever. We honor them who 
have allowed nature her own way, not interfering by 
any art or contrivance. Years roll on and we cannot 
stay their course. Herbert Spencer questioned the 
wisdom of the New York constitution which judged it 
unfitting for its Chancellor, even though he were a 
Kent, to hold office beyond his sixtieth year. Our own 
State draws the " death-line " of the supreme bench at 
seventy. I will not aflirm it, but that zone of uncer- 
tainty may reach even to that border-line ; the reticence 
and reserve on the troublesome question of age may 
even there manifest itself. - But, ordinarily, we become 
less sensitive — are more frank and explicit — even, it 
may be, take some pride in our years. I received a 
letter a few years ago from a friend, who subjoined to 
his signature " At the age of eighty-five." He held no 
reserve. 

But we, however, do not welcome the advent of age. 
This is not unnatural. When we reach this " snowy 
summit of our years," we know that we shall then de- 
scend the farther hill-side of life ; our sun is westerning, 
our shadows lengthen, and we can look not far down 
where the shades of evening are gathering. Poetry 
from Homer down deepens the impression of infirmity, 
decay, decrepitude we attach to old age. Holy Script- 



86 

ure teaches us : " The days of our years are threescore 
years and ten ; and if by reason of strength they be 
fourscore, yet is their strength labor and sorrow," and 
so the Preacher in Ecclesiastes reminds us of the days 
when " the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the 
strong men shall bow themselves, and tho^e that look 
out of the windoAvs be darkened ; also when they shall 
be afraid of that which is high, and fears shall be in the 
way, and the almond tree shall flourish, and the grass- 
hopper shall be a burden, and desire shall fail." 

You recall the seven ages of human life as charac- 
terized by Shakespeare. 

''The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, 
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side." 

And the seventh ends, 

''In second childishness and mere oblivion, 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything," 

not always verified in experience. The transition from 
age to age is not violent and sudden. Years roll on, 
but we hear no rumble ; time has wings, but we hear 
no whir. " Our days are swifter than a weaver's 
shuttle," but they are noiseless. In ordinary health 
age steals upon us sandaled, velvet-footed. The cele- 
brated Dr. Chalmers of Scotland, when beyond sixty, 
said he often felt like a boy. A relative of mine at 
eighty-four told me that when in his chair he felt as 
young as at twenty-five. My father left unfinished a 
letter to Mr. Stephen Longfellow in as steady a hand, 



87 

as consecutive in thought as any written in earlier life, 
written a few days before his death, at the age of eighty- 
seven. On my eightieth birthday it was hinted that I 
might have callers. I accordingly donned my best 
array, and as I stood to receive, I will say frankly that 
I felt as if I was acting a farce and my friends were 
pleased to join in carrying out an illusion and a pre- 
tence. I just spoke of a period of anticipation. The 
aged have come to a period of retrospection — looking 
back. 

There are compensations for those in advanced 
years. They have the privilege of thinking that former 
times were better than the present. From the hill-tops 
of life how vivid and near seem the scenes of early 
days. They cherish reminiscences. To refer to myself. 
It is pleasant to me to review my connection with this 
society. I cherish the memory of most of its founders 
and its membership throughout, and what can I say of 
the reminiscences, very pleasant to me, of the seventy 
classes of the college that have passed under my eyes. 

The world has little to animate hope, or kindle de- 
sire for the aged. If believers, their best hopes — best 
for young as well as old — are beyond. The event of 
the evening may assure us that whatever of shadow 
may be cast upon them, advanced years have their 
sunny aspects also. 

I may have seemed to speak with unbecoming levity 
of what is a most serious subject. I need not say that 
I feel most deeply the solemnity of treading the outer- 
most verge of the scene. But a step, which must be 



very near for me, and the vast immeasurable unseen is 
just beyond, and my first and greatest duty, as I hope I 
have realized in some measure for many years, is to be 
girded for that. 

Let me add a word to the society which has thus 
distinguished me, that whenever I enter this hall I rec- 
ognize on these shelves the friends of many years. I 
felt a pang when they were removed from the college, 
but I congratulate the society that the care of them 
has come into the custody of the enterprise, and skill, 
and tastes of younger years. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 



I. LIST OF PUBLICATIONS. 

1. College Education. North American Review. Vol. 

XXVIII. pp. 294-311. April, 1829. 

2. Homer. North American Review. Vol. XXXVII. 

pp. 340-374. October, 1833. 

3. On the best Method of Teaching the Ancient Lan- 

guages. Introductory Discourse and the Lect- 
ures delivered before the American Institute of 
Instruction in Boston, August, 1833 ; pp. 155- 
184. 

4. On the Intercourse between Instructors and Pupils 

in Colleges. American Annals of Education 
and Instruction. February, 1835; pp. 55-60. 

5. Historical Sketch of Bowdoin College. American 

Quarterly Register. Vol. VIII. pp. 105-117. 
November, 1835. 

6. The Works of Rev. Jesse Appleton, D.D. With a 

memoir of his life and character (by Rev. A. S. 
Packard. Vol. I. pp. 9-82.), 2 Vols., Andover, 
1836-7. 

7. Address at the Dedication of the Teachers' Semi- 

nary at Gorham, Me., September 13, 1837. Port- 
land, 1837 ; pp. 24. 

8. Characteristics of a Good District School. An 

address delivered before the Teachers' Associa- 



90 

tion of Bowdoin College, Brunswick, 1838 ; pp. 
34. 
9. Academic Instruction. Four articles in the Cliris- 
tian Mirror, Jan. 17, 24, 31, and Feb. 7, 1839. 

10. Xenophon's Memorabilia of Socrates, with English 

notes. Andover, 1839; pp. 264. (Noticed in 
North Am. Rev., Vol. LI. p. 242, July, 1840, 
and in New York Review, Vol. VI. p. 243, 
January, 1840.) 

11. The Same. Second Edition, 1841, and Third Edi- 

tion, N. Y., 1843. 

12. Memoir of Rev. Hezekiah Packard, D.D., Bruns- 

wick, 1850 ; pp. 68. 

13. History of Bunker Hill Monument. Collections 

Maine Historical Society, Vol. III. pp. 243-269. 
Portland, 1853. 

14. Nationality. Bibliotheca Sacra. Vol. XIII. pp. 

173-202. January, 1856. 
15-17.' Contributions to Sprague's Annals of the 
American Pulpit, New York, 1857-1865. Bio- 
graphical notices of Rev. Samuel Eaton, Vol. I. 
pp. 612-618. Rev. Jesse Appleton, D.D., Vol. 
II. pp. 383-388. Rev. Hezekiah Packard, D.D., 
Vol. VIII. pp. 281-290. 

18. Our Alma Mater. Address before the Association 

of the Alumni of Bowdoin College, August 5, 
1858; pp.49. 

19. On the Progress which Forty Years have witnessed 

in the Means and Methods of Instruction. 
Maine Teacher and School Officer, Vol. IV. pp. 
300-365. June, 1862. 



91 

20. Address on the Life and Character of William 

Smyth, D.D., before the Alumni of the College, 
July 7, 1868. Brunswick, 1868; pp. 37. 

21. Address on the Life and Character of Thomas C. 

Upham, D.D., delivered at the interment, April 
4, 1872. Brunswick, 1873 ; pp. 24. 

22. Memoir of Hon. William Willis, LL.D. New Eng- 

land Historical and Genealogical Register, Vol. 
XXVII. pp. 1-8. January, 1873. 

23. Address on the occasion of the Centennial Cele- 

bration of the Congregational Church at Wis- 
casset, August 6, 1873. Wiscasset, 1873; pp. 
24. 

24. Remarks at the Funeral of James McKeen, M.D., 

December 2, 1873. (Privately printed.) 

25. Notice of Hon. William Willis. Collections Maine 

Historical Society, Vol. VII. pp. 473-486. 
Portland, 1876. 

26. Discourse at the Semi-centennial anniversary of the 

General Conference of the Congregational 
Churches in Maine, delivered in Portland, June 
28, 1876 ; pp. 21. 

27. Memorial Sketch of Nehemiah Cleaveland, pp. 12. 

(Privately printed.) 

28. Remarks at the 150th anniversary of the First 

Church in Yarmouth, pp. 29-34. Portland, 
1881. 

29. Reminiscences of Bowdoin. Library Magazine. 

Vol. VII. pp. 9-24. February, 1881. 

30. History of Bowdoin College with biographical 



92 

■ sketches of its graduates from 1806 to 1879 in- 
clusive. By Nehemiah Cleaveland. Edited 
and completed by Alpheus S. Packard, Boston, 
1882; pp. 905. 

31. Recollections of Phillips Exeter Academy, 1811. 

Familiar sketches of the Phillips Exeter Acad- 
emy, by Frank H. Cunningham, Boston, 1883 ; 
pp. 226-235. 

32. Address at Phillips Exeter Academy. Exercises 

at the Centennial Celebration, June, 1883. Ex- 
eter, 1884; pp. 5-8. 



II. TRIBUTES TO HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER* 



Hon. William G. Barrows. Letter. Read at the His- 
torical Society's Celebration. 
Rev. C. A. Bartol, D.D. Letter. Boston Advertiser, 
July 17, 1884. 

*It has been thought fitting to briefly mention the various tributes paid 
to Prof. Pactarcl, by liis numerous friends and pupils, and not included in 
the preceding pages. The list, however, must not be considered as exhaustive. 
The compiler has merely noted such as have come beneath his eye. The 
various Alumni Associations of the college passed at their meetings resolutions 
of respect, as did also the Maine Historical Society. The personal tributes 
connected with the latter's celebration of his 84th birthday may be found in 
the Portland Press of Dec. 25, 1882. 



93 

James P. Baxter, Esq. Greeting to the Mentor. A 
Poem. Read at the Historical Society's Celebration. 

Hon. S. H. Blake. Letter. Written for the Historical 
Society's Celebration. 

Hon. James W. Bradbury. Address. Delivered at the 
Historical Society's Celebration. 

President P. A. Chadbourne. Letter. Read at the 
Historical Society's Celebration. 

Gen. Joshua L. Chamberlain Address. Delivered at 
the Historical Society's Celebration. 

Prof. Henry L. Chapman. Sonnet. Read at the His- 
torical Society's Celebration. 

Prof. Isaac B. Choate. Sonnet. Boston Advertiser, 
Dec. 23, 1882. 

Hon. Josiah Crosby. Letter. Read at the Historical 
Society's Celebration. 

Frank L. Dingley, Esq. Article in Lewiston Journal 
of July 14, 1884. 

Edward H. Elwell, Esq. Ode. Sung at the Historical 
Society's Celebration. 

Dr. Edward M. Field. Poem. Delivered before the 
Bowdoin Alumni of Bangor. 

Hon. Wm. P. Frye. Letter. Read at Historical Soci- 
ety's Celebration. 

Prof. Frederic Gardiner, D.D. Letter. Read at His- 
torical Society's Celebration. 

Prof. W. W. Goodwin. Obituary Notice. Read be- 
fore the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. 

Hon. William Goold. Address. Delivered at the 
Historical Society's Celebration. 



94 

Rev. Cyrus Hamlin, D.D. Letter. Read at Historical 
Society's Celebration. 

Rev. Samuel Harris, D.D. Letter. Read at Historical 
Society's Celebration. 

Prof. Henry W. Longfellow. In Morituri Salutamus. 
Read at the Semi-Centennial of the class of 1825. 

Rev. Henry M. King, D.D. Letter. Read at Histor- 
ical Society's Celebration. 

Isaac McLellan, Esq. Poem. Read at the Historical 
Society's Celebration. 

Rev. George F. Magoun, D.D. Letter. Read at the 
Historical Society's Celebration. 

Rev. Geo. T. Packard. Biographical Sketch in Boston 
Advertiser of July 14, 1884. 

President G. D. Pepper, D.D. Address. Delivered at 
the Historical Society's Celebration. 

Henry Phillips, Jr. Letter. Read at the Historical 
Society's Celebration. 

Rev. Geo. L. Prentiss, D.D. Letter. Read at the 
Historical Society's Celebration. 

Prof. J. S. Sewall, D.D. Letter. Read at Historical 
Society's Celebration. 

Prof. J. B. Sewall. Letter. Read at Historical So- 
ciety's Celebration. 

Rufus K. Sewall, Esq. Letter. Read at the Histori- 
cal Society's Celebration. 

Rev. Newman Smyth, D.D. Address Commemorative 
of Prof. A. S. Packard, D.D. Read before the 
Bowdoin Alumni Association of New York, Janu- 
ary 21, 1885. Printed for the Association. 



95 

Prof. John B. L. Soule, D.D. Fourscore and four. A 
Sonnet. Polychords. Chicago, 1882, p. 302. 

Hon. Geo. F. Talbot. Address. Delivered at the 
Historical Society's Celebration. 

Rev. Benjamin Tappan, D.D. Letter. Read at the 
Historical Society's Celebration. 

Rev. D. D. Tappan. Poem. 

A. G. Tenney, Esq. Article in the Brunswick Tele- 
graph of July 18, 1884. 

Rev. I. P. Warren, D.D. Letter. Read at the Histor- 
ical Society's Celebration. 

Hon. Israel Washburn. Letter. Read at the Histor- 
ical Society's Celebration. 

Hon. Joseph Williamson. Address. Delivered at the 
Historical Society's Celebration. 

Mrs. Abba Goold Woolson. Sonnet. Read at the 
Historical Society's Celebration. 



13 190? 



